


Triple

by rsk110



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/rsk110
Summary: Aiba Masaki was once an idol who sang a song that touched two people's hearts.  Sakurai Sho is a popular news anchor and Ohno Satoshi is Japan's No. 1 idol.  Years later, they get together, and it is wonderful and tragic and self-sacrificing, and all worth it.[Repost after deleting livejournal comm masaki_x.  This fic was written and posted the fall of 2011.]





	1. Part I [Friendship]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I am reposting fics from comm masaki_x unto ao3. This is going to be a slow process and I won't get to post everything at once. If you are waiting for other fics to be posted, please be patient. I have quite a few. And I'm going by the order of "stories I'm fond of". I may not post everything. If you have particular requests, feel free to email or leave me a message on tumblr (tumblr[dot]com/coveryourheads).
> 
> Please note that one of the reasons I shut down lj is because of the changes in company ownership. I don't think I have to explain much about that one. Please also note that I deleted them because I felt insufficient... I really thought they were pretty bad. I wrote for the fun of it but then along the way it just wasn't fun to be in the fandom anymore so I stopped writing for this fandom. But I made a decision to repost them because a few requests to have them be available again.
> 
> This fic is special to me. I loved working on this and I loved the feedback I got for this fic. It was one of those moments when everything came together so well and... I also wasn't working 60 hours a week so I had more time. :) It makes me happy that I can post them chapter by chapter. Instead of the cluster in LJ. :D
> 
> There's a lot of sexually explicit stuff, descriptive, and I just don't like to tag EVERYTHING... so there it is. You've been warned.

 

 

**TRIPLE**

 

 

Part I [Friendship]

「運命的な交差路ひとつにつながり続いてゆく」

“By a destined juncture (we’ll) go on connected as one” – Friendship

…

There was still five minutes left for the recording to begin.  Aiba Masaki checked his wrist watch and then his cellular phone.  There were two messages, unread and recent.

[Aiba kun~  Please do well on today’s recording~]  and

[Masaki, are we still on tonight for dinner?  I’ve already made reservations.]

The first one he deleted not without a little hesitance.  It was from a fan, and most likely didn’t expect a proper reply.  It wasn’t that he disliked his fans.  It was only the messages or phone calls he received anonymously which he disliked.  He liked the postcards and the fan-letters, emails sent to the show’s inboxes, but getting personal calls was like his life getting hacked.  He would have to change his number again; and that was the annoying part.

There were three minutes left.  The director and engineers were doing final check outside the soundproof booth.

Aiba Masaki was the DJ for the daily late night radio program called Recomen.  He’d been doing the thirty-minute segment for the past eight years.  After the not-too-great debut single, he’d worked various jobs from insignificant drama roles to appearances in late night variety shows.  He had just the one single before his contract was dropped, and he went around mostly on his own to find whatever job he could get, trying to find a management who would take him.  He found a chance on a radio program, filling in for another DJ for an entire week.  The station’s producer heard his baritone and the slight ‘Tennen Boke’ character (such as misreading Kanji and getting hyper about the smallest things) and offered him his own show, as a trial, for an entire month.

The show had been late night – a 2-2:30 am slot – but the few listeners gave the show positive reviews.  The slot was moved to 1-1:30 am, five days a week.  After a few solid years, Recomen now aired at 11-11:30 pm, five times a week, with good ratings and a string of steady listeners.

Just a year ago, a producer from a cable music station had stopped by.  He had read an article about Recomen and heard the show, and had come to offer him a music show.  It was formatted just like Recomen except that they would show promotional videos and his face was shown in between.  Being an ex-idol (short lived, but) he was handsome, more refined in his late twenties, so the show was a hit (as far as cable TV went).

Masaki could now say that he was glad he had kept at it, from the small jobs and ridiculous, sometimes unreasonable, pays.  He was rewarded with two steady jobs, and he wasn’t starving or ignored.

Two minutes left.

Another perk, even if he was a not-so-big-deal DJ, he did get to meet a lot of musicians and sometimes became friends with the celebrities.  Like the last message he received, his nights were seldom spent alone at home, unless by choice.  He quickly typed a reply, pressing the ‘Send’ button with a wide smile.

[Of course!  I’ll meet you by the exit at eight.]

One minute left.

He pocketed his phone, turning it off completely.  From his headset, the director’s voice told him, ‘thirty seconds left, Aiba kun.’  He reviewed the short notes on the script, though there really was no need to.  It was already completely memorized.

‘And, five, four, three, two---‘

“Aiba Masaki’s Recomen!  Welcome to another episode of ---“

Eight o’clock was only a few hours away.

…

Ohno Satoshi dozed in his make-up chair.  A magazine was spread open over his folded legs.  His stylist touched up his hair – it was longer than he liked, the longest parts falling to his shoulders when there was no hairspray in it.  He liked the color, golden brown with highlights, but as soon as the current drama was over, he would ask for a cut; get all the hair shaved around his nape at least.

He woke to the stroke of his stylist’s touch.  The magazine had flipped by itself to the back where the pages were black and white with lots of words and advertisements.  The opened page had singles rankings, cd rankings, and others.  At the number one spot for new singles was ‘Ohno Satoshi – Monster’.  He smiled at it, grateful for the success.  He had never thought to be an Idol, when his mother sent his current Jimusho his resume.  He’d argued her about it until she said, ‘There’s no chance you’d get in so why are you so angry?’  But he did get in, Japan’s top Idol management company.  Sure, he could always carry a tune, and dancing was natural for him as moving his body was – but he never, ever, imagined after twelve years that he’d be called Japan’s number one Idol.

“The new single’s doing well, ne?” His stylist commented, whilst adding a final layer of hairspray over his entire coiffed head.

“Yes, I guess so –“  Satoshi replied in the sleepy face he was famous for.

He sifted through the pages, grazing over the text for anything interesting.  It wasn’t the copy which caught his eyes.  It was the tiny passport picture sized face beside the copy ‘Aiba Recomen!’   Satoshi stared at the photo.

I like the song in your single, ‘Hello, Good Bye’

Thank you.  I like your single, too.

“Oh!  Ohno san, do you listen to that show, too?  It’s really fun and the DJ is quite popular these days.”

“Aiba… Masaki?”

“Yeah!  I believe he has a cable music program as well…  I’m not sure what it’s called though…”

Satoshi’s lips flickered up in a short grin.

“Masaki—“  The three syllables were so softly spoken that his stylist didn’t hear them, nor was he aware he had said them.

…

Sakurai Sho was two minutes late.  The elevator stopped at every other floor despite his mind willing it to hurry.  When it hit the Lobby floor, he rushed out.  His messenger bag strap kept sliding down his shoulder, and his friend would surely make fun of his sloping shoulders if he saw.  He slung it over his body, letting the strap cross over his chest; this way it wouldn’t keep sliding off.

Outside the glass revolving doors, Sho saw his friend standing on the sidewalk.  He had a cigarette between his index and third finger, the motion a constant arch from his mouth to his side.

“Masaki!  I’m sorry I’m late.”

“I’ve not been waiting long.”  Masaki smiled at him.  Sho watched his friend stub the half burnt cigarette out and tossing it into the designated bin.

They walked side by side, taking turns to talk about their day.  Sho did most of the talking, about the news they’d covered, his honest opinions about issues he couldn’t openly discuss on a live news show.  In the somewhat crowded subway car, they kept to themselves.  Sho hid his face, staying close to Masaki’s shoulder.  He didn’t want to be noticed so he kept his face down and hidden against his taller friend’s body, using him as a shield.

“You smell good,” Sho commented, voice not even close to a whisper.  He knew Masaki heard it though, the handsome face turning towards him.

“You smell good, too.  You look good today.”  A light laughter followed his comment.  Sho smiled.

Just then the train tumbled as it curved through the lane a little too fast.  Sho lost his balance, but Masaki caught him at his waist.  Even when the train became steady again, the hand stayed beneath the suit jacket Sho was wearing for the night.  No one would see it, not unless they were looking for it.  The train car was crowded enough that they could stay attached just so.

Sho looked up through his lashes to his friend smiling down at him.

“I’m starving.”

“Me, too.”

…

Satoshi contemplated on calling his friend; perhaps it wasn’t too late to join him (and a good friend of his, he’d been told) for dinner.  Sho usually worked pretty late into the night.  There always seemed to be news for him to cover.  But the email he’d gotten from the Newscaster was asking him to join them for dinner whenever work was over for the Idol.

Tonight was a live music performance television show.  He loved singing and dancing, but he would rather skip the interviews.  The television folks could never seem to get enough out of him.  Other than the singles and records and concerts, he considered himself a fairly normal guy.

When the live show was over (and quite successful performance-wise) he was asked to stay for a short interview from a television magazine.  Satoshi nodded and said he would be waiting in his dressing room.  He changed out of his sparkly black suit thing into a pair of loose jeans and soft tee shirt.  His fingers raked back his hair so he could stuff it all into his favorite hat, worn a little crooked to the side.  Then he sat at the small table and played with his mobile phone.

[I’m done for the evening, Sho.  Will you treat me to dinner?]

Sho was about a year younger than he was, but they’d become good friends.  They weren’t even in the same line of profession – well, Sho was on TV, too, but…  Satoshi admired his friend who could do news shows and then MC variety shows, act in movies and adorn fashion magazines with his good looks, pretty face.  He could be an idol if it had interested him – oh well.  Satoshi was just glad to have him as a friend.

[We’re at ooo restaurant in ooo.  We’ll wait for you, Sato yan~]

Satoshi read the quick reply, the entire screen filled with emoticons and heart icons.  Before he could reply, the magazine person knocked on his door.  As promised, the interview was short, relevant to his new single, the live, the upcoming tour, and summaries of the few regular variety shows in the next week.  All were pretty standard drill.

Satoshi asked his manager to drive him to the restaurant.  In the car, he plugged his iPod ear buds.  He would play one of his favorite tunes on continuous repeat – one he loved but the singer didn’t receive the amount of interest he should have had.  The song was not well-known – the single now so rare to find.  He loved it though.  The CD was scratched, the booklet worn around the edges.  He stopped listening lest the CD was permanently damaged until he successfully ripped the songs unto his computer and into his mp3 player.  Now he could listen as many times as he liked. 

I like the song in your single, ‘Hello, Goodbye’.

Thank you.  I like your single, too.

I’m Ohno Satoshi.

I know.  I’m Aiba Masaki.  Please feel free to call me Masaki.

If you call me Satoshi.

I really like your songs, Masaki…

…

“Yay!  He’ll be joining us after all!” Masaki was happier that Sho was smiling so.  He wasn’t told beforehand who this friend was.  Masaki thought that he wouldn’t mind being alone with just Sho, but if his friend was this happy, then he would sit here and wait with him.

They sat in the corner booth sharing a kettle of tea.  The music swirled around, their table being in the back part of the restaurant, away from other customers’ eyes.  Masaki wrapped his arm around the Newscaster’s waist again.  He wanted to put his mouth on the smiling lips but he waited.  Sho turned his face to him, laying a hand over Masaki’s to tighten the hold at his waist.  Masaki gripped him, thumb caressing the smooth line of taut skin and the ironed cotton shirt.  And he met the pouty lips, which opened up for him.

They separated after a short while.  The only thought the DJ had was that he could not jeopardize his friend’s career by being seen with him like this in public.  He liked Sho enough to not ask him for more.  He would never ask him for more than what they had.  It wasn’t even the question of having different lives, career paths, education; Masaki like Sho as a friend. 

Masaki pecked Sho’s soft cheek before leaning back into the booth.

…

Sho watched the exchange between his two friends.  He’d meant to surprise Masaki by inviting the idol he liked.  Sho tried to listen to as many of Masaki’s radio program he could.  Whenever Masaki played one of Ohno Satoshi songs, (it was all sponsored, scripted but) there was an extra higher level of excitement in the DJ’s voice.  But he didn’t know that they knew each other.

“Sa –Satoshi?”

“Masaki!  It’s been a long time.”

Sho ordered their late night dinner as his friends sat there staring at each other.

“Sato yan~” Sho called his friend for a little attention.

“Sho chan.  I didn’t know you knew Masaki.”

“Me neither.  You two—“

“We debuted around the same time, so we met back then…” Masaki explained.  Sho listened and automatically understood.  He smiled widely.

“Now the three of us can hang out!  This is great!” Sho beamed brilliantly.  His two best friends knew each other from a long time ago, even though they managed to not keep in touch, never having the chance to work together.  How odd that a non-musician such as himself would be the link for them to reconnect after all these years.

“Thank you, Sho chan.”  Satoshi said to him when Masaki went outside for a cigarette.

“We’re the only two, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“The only two who still listen to Masaki’s songs.”

“They’re the best.”

“They are.”

“Thank you, Sho chan,” Satoshi repeated, bending forward to kiss his cheek where Masaki had kissed him.  Sho smiled at his friend.

“This is the way it should be.”


	2. Part II [静かな夜に]  On a Quiet Night

 

 

 

Part II [静かな夜に]  On a Quiet Night

「雨の調べ漂う涙の奏で霞む空が覗いていた」

“Melody of rain, Wandering music of tears, the foggy sky is glancing”  - 静かな夜に

…

Just as their friendship was inevitable, this was as progressive and as natural.  Sho didn’t have to wonder about any of it.  The three of them, going out at nights, to drink or to dinner, to just spend time with each other became a normal thing.

He could remember watching a movie together, a boring old movie, falling asleep through the middle of it, waking up cuddling with his friends.  Just as always, Masaki’s arm was wrapped behind his back, his waist, but it was just warm; too warm.  Satoshi’s head lolled on his shoulder, so he had put an arm around the thin shoulders, hugging him closer.  The warmth of Masaki’s breath against his ear aroused him, maybe not physically at first, but his heart pounded hard inside his ribs.

That night, they kissed, but nothing like they’d done before; not only lip to lip, not just a peck on the cheek.  Sho opened his mouth, lips locked against Masaki’s, tongues tangling, licking, sucking at each other to drink in everything, even thoughts, even the soul, blood, the pain, the pleasure.  Sho couldn’t get enough of kissing Masaki, tasting his flavor over and over again.  They parted breathing harshly against each other’s lips, but ready to attack again.  But Sho became aware of the Idol at his side, gripping his shirt anxiously.

“Sato yan~” Sho called his friend by the nickname only he used, one only he was privileged to.

The Idol kissed his lips, a little hesitant, alert to the situation.  They didn’t have to look at Masaki for a sort of permission – this was also meant to be, just as kissing the DJ couldn’t be helped.  Kissing Satoshi was definitely not as tense as kissing Masaki.  If Masaki was release, alleviation, a tumult of all available emotions, then Satoshi was a fetter, an obstruction, and the heart of a tempest.  Their tongues pushed and pulled, spit mixing together.  Sho’s hands found their way up to cradle the warm skin and held where the jaw met the thin neck.  Satoshi was loosely holding his shoulders, arms thrown over.

The first memorable night started in kissing and ended with kissing.

Sho watched in silent awe, Masaki’s mouth stretched over Satoshi’s small mouth, as if to swallow him whole.  The Idol was crushed inside Masaki’s chest, his tiny frame smaller in the embrace.  The DJ had the smaller man’s head bent back, held on his hand, and devoured him in that way.  It looked like an old Hollywood film kiss, the way Scarlett O’Hara was kissed goodbye by Rhett Butler, but none of the sentimentality.  Perhaps a different sensibility, Sho imagined, watching in amazement.  He was happy that his kiss with Masaki was different from Satoshi and Masaki’s kiss.

They all did it again, mouth to mouth, hands to skin.  Somewhere along the night, they drifted over to the bed and fell asleep, limbs tangled, heated flesh against flesh.  Sho knew it was the way it should be.  He would never change a single thread of it.

…

It was like being on stage, at the dome, the center stage that rose in tiers, when he danced an entire set, sang his heart out to a full roaring crowd.  At least his heart felt that way.  There was no roaring crowd.  It was quiet, silent, except for the liquid noises of their fluids mixing, the small release and heave of breaths, and the heart beating in his ears.

Nothing changed about their relationship; they were friends.  Good friends.  Best friends.  But Satoshi found himself fidgeting until work was over so he could meet Sho and Masaki.  No matter what they did was fun.  Trying out new restaurants or bars, a drive around town in Masaki’s car, going to an artist’s opening, or whatever else they did, when it was the three of them, the entire existence made sense.

And at home (most of the time, Masaki’s) they could do this all night if they wanted to.

Satoshi had to cling hard to whatever he could get his hand on when Masaki pinned him down immobile and thrust his tongue into his mouth.  He often left dents in Masaki’s arms or shoulders, but the DJ didn’t seem to mind.  He was only kissed harder.  Then Sho kissed him softly not as deep, not as roughly as Masaki.  He liked both of their kisses, the flavors eventually all mixing together.

The first time Masaki’s hand trailed down between his legs, stopping at the juncture to squeeze his erection, he almost came in his pants.  The involuntary moan he released made Sho tear his mouth away.  Satoshi felt he had to apologize, but Sho put his mouth against his throat, tongue licking, tickling.

“Aah…  Ha-ah—Sho chan…?  Masaki!!”

The DJ had unzipped his pants so that his dick sprang up out of his underwear.  Sho’s teeth grazed the skin of his neck and collarbones, as Masaki’s hand tormented his sex.

“How does that feel, Satoshi?”

“In—Incredible!” He screamed promptly, his balls exploding, the semen streaming out of his dick.  He searched for Sho’s mouth, found it, and probed into it.

Satoshi changed his mind.  It was better than being on stage.  He could masturbate all the wanted but it would never feel like that.  No way.  Sho’s mouth was all over the sensitive areas of his body, Masaki’s hand still milking him even as he’d gone soft.

“Unn…  You’re so sexy, Satoshi…” Masaki spoke softly against his ear, and swallowed his lips when he tried to speak.

The next thing he knew, the three of them were nude, his fingers gliding down the well-muscled ridges of Sho’s stomach towards the irresistible erection.  And there was also Masaki.  Satoshi grabbed the two erections, messaging, squeezing.  He stared at their elongated kiss, something he would call ‘making out’, the attack from one mouth to the other, sucking each other so hungrily.

Then there were the two hard lengths he was stroking together.  His eyes fell down on the dicks, now touching root to tip, to Satoshi’s amusement.  Both tips were decorated with clear drops of pre-come.

The Idol found himself wanting to taste the drops, so he bent his head, licking at the slits, one at a time.  He heard his Newscaster friend moan a long and very pleasured protest.  Masaki had only grunted as he licked the velvety skin of the cap, but the cock twitched in his palm.

Satoshi measured the length and weight with his eyes.  He was unsure if he could suck Masaki, but he was pretty sure Sho would fit in his mouth, so he stretched his jaw, slipping the entire sex deep into his throat.  His throat gagged but he willed the sex in deeper.  The core was hard, like steel, the skin and vessels soft, hot and malleable over his tongue.  Sho’s whimpers were in conjunction with the shallow thrusts of his hips.  So Satoshi sucked him as hard as he could, and helped Sho to thrust in and out of his mouth as deep and as fast or slow as he wanted.  It wasn’t long before the caster ejaculated in his mouth.  The semen pooled on his curved tongue, the well behind his lower teeth, the smell and salty, briny taste clouding his senses.  Before he could swallow, Masaki’s mouth devoured him, and they mixed their spit and Sho’s come down their throats.

“Sho chan tastes wonderful,” the Idol commented, fitting his head into the space his friend’s shoulder and neck created.  There, he met with hardness, twitching at his touch.

“You can do that to my mouth, too, Masaki,” Satoshi whispered.  Masaki’s thumb grazed over his lip, swollen and sore from the use.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” the DJ replied with a soft smile, finger caressing his cheek.

Sho shifted a little then (Satoshi’s lower half was still laying on top of him) to whisper at them.  “I want to suck your cock, Masaki.”

Satoshi was the one who swallowed.  Both he and Masaki watched the Newscaster bend between the widespread legs, expertly palming the hard length in one hand, tongue snaking out to lap up the leaking come.  The Idol was the one who moaned, the red swollen lips stretching widely over the blood-red tip.  He watched in fascination the length (the whole length!) disappearing into Sho’s throat.  The skin was glistening wet, gliding in and out of the hot mouth.

The Idol put his mouth against his friend’s neck, the want to pleasure him growing warm in his stomach.  A hand grasped his nape so hard he almost yelped, instead he sucked the skin and bit into the muscle of the shoulder, feeling Masaki shudder between his teeth.

The Newscaster climbed up, using his wrist to wipe the saliva and traces of semen from his lips.

Satoshi’s heart drummed on in the fast dance beats, his friends more or less the same.  He fell asleep easily, nestled somewhere between Sho and Masaki, their bodies sweaty and emanating after-sex scents and happy.  Really happy.

…

The nights were quiet when the DJ was home alone.  In the summer months, his Idol friend was busy with concert dates and CD release with promotions.  Whenever he turned the TV on, he would see Satoshi; an appearance on a show, a commercial, or a beautifully rendered promotional video.  Then on the news channel he would catch glimpses of Sho, his bright eyes and articulate wordings, the crisp pronunciations reading the reports.  Recently those two have been so busy that Masaki had hardly seen them.  They emailed frequently, but at nights alone in his bed, the emails weren’t enough.

Masaki put his headphones on, lying on his back on his bed.  The playlist in his iPod courtesy of his radio show director as well as a few added for his television show played on.  The pop beats flowed into his ears, but he didn’t absorb any of them.  He smoked in bed, unlike when his friends were there; he didn’t do anything they didn’t want him to.  But he sucked in the bitter smoke, the burnt flavor of tobacco lingering on his tongue.  The shuffle mode of his iPod switched to the next track.  The intro was so familiar; he’d listened to it about a hundred times already even though the album hadn’t been out a week yet.  It was beautiful; the tune, the melody, the vocals, all too beautiful.

「月は君を映し出して　白く輝く　雨は降りやむこともなく　僕を包んだ」

(The moon shines on you, lit up white; the rain doesn’t think to stop and surrounds me)

Suddenly a dim light fell across his body, the smoky shadows swirling over the blank white sheets curving with the plains of his body.  If there had been a voice, he’d not heard a thing; Masaki shut his music off and squinted against the light from his doorway.  Then he heard the deep low voice.

“Oh, good…  You’re not asleep yet,” the Newscaster’s voice was definitely not televised.  It was there for real.  “You should know it is Satoshi’s last performance.  He’ll be here soon.  You just stay like that.”

And he did as he was told, lying back deep into the feathery pillows.

Sho entered his bedroom again, wrapped only in one of his bath towels.  He let it fall as he got closer to the bed and slinked in under the sheets.  They lay there, looking at each other, measuring time by the ticking clock on the wall.

Soon Satoshi was there, his hair still damp from the after-performance shower.  He smiled when he discovered his friends in bed.  Masaki watched the Idol strip down and join them in bed.

“You’ve been smoking in here,” Satoshi commented as he ran a hand along Masaki’s arm.  He shivered from the cool touch, apologizing.  But the singer didn’t sound angry in any way so he only sighed when his friends’ mouths found his body.

The next minutes, perhaps hours were spent seeking each other, mouth to mouth, hand to skin, all tangled and heated, liquids exchanged.

Masaki let his friends kiss his mouth, his exposed skin.  In the darkness, he tried to look down at Satoshi who’d got his dick down his throat.  But he couldn’t while having Sho’s tongue in his mouth, those elegant hands cradling his face.  All he could do was match the movement of Sho’s tongue, swallow the mixture of spit, and keep his hips from thrusting too harshly in to the Idol’s throat (which must have been sore from singing three nights in a row).  Sho groaned appreciatively and Satoshi didn’t seem to mind the thrusts, as he swallowed him deeper, bobbing his head up and down, coming up only for air.

Suddenly, the wet lips were gone.  So Masaki opened his eyes and met the large irises glazed over with lust.

“Since you’ve been so good Masaki,” the Caster’s voice too reflected how turned on he was, “Sato yan and I decided to reward you.”

“Reward?” Masaki became nervous.  He watched Sho climb on top of his body, the thighs stretched on either sides of him.  Satoshi hugged Sho from behind him, the heat of their inner thighs warming him up significantly.  The Idol let his hand drift to grab Sho’s sex, playing with it for Masaki to see.  The other slid up to pinch at one brown pebble of a nipple, tongue licking the caster’s long neck.  At that, Masaki had to groan, his fingers clutching so hard to make dents into one of Sho’s white thighs.

They’d been doing this for months now but that night was different.  The air was stuffy like dense fog, the dance of their muscles a bit slower, heavier, calmer, quieter.  Masaki would never forget that night.

“Masaki is all ready, Sho chan…  So hard…  Feel it…”  Their hands squeezed and kneaded his cock, French-kissing in that awkward twist of Sho’s head, the sweaty bodies grinding against one another.

“Just watch, Masaki—“  The oldest man’s words were directed to him but whispered against Sho’s swollen lips.

Masaki almost screamed.  He was positive he was going to leave Sho bruised, the way his fingers grasped the unbelievable thighs.  He should have shut his eyes from the pain, the never before experienced pleasure around his sex, but he watched.  He kept his eyes opened, staring at his cock easing into Sho’s hole.  It was like being sucked into heat, wet tight heat, like a human vacuum of exotic textures and safety.  He cussed instead of screaming, reciprocated by Sho and Satoshi.  When his cock was in half way, Sho paused to breathe.

Satoshi hugged Sho’s waist again to help him ease down the thick column.  Masaki’s mouth flickered into a smile at the smear of leftover lubricant against Sho’s abdomen.  He mused at the prospect of the Idol’s manager buying the bottle of lubricant, handing him the discrete package in a black plastic bag with a bright blush, not wanting to know where and why he would need the item.  He guessed that when the two men fondled him, they’d spread a generous amount of the slick stuff over him.  As Sho pushed down all the way with a grunt, Masaki rose up to kiss the taunting lips.  The round buttocks hit his pubic area.

“Is this my reward?”

“Yes,” Satoshi answered instead, leaning up over the panting Newscaster’s shoulder to receive a kiss from the DJ.

Their bodies rocked in unison as Sho began to move.  His head was thrown back, arms wrapped loosely around Masaki’s shoulders, embraced by Satoshi.  Masaki let Sho ride his cock, slowly getting adjusted to the thickness invading his body.  The drops of sweat rolled down his face and chest, falling in heavy drops on the DJ’s stomach, on the bobbing erection, on the dark patch of pubic hair, remaining like morning dew droplets.  Masaki nipped the exposed throat, tongued the Adam’s apple and the perfectly curved chin.  This was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen or experienced.

Sho kept up the chanting of his name.

“Masaki—“ was mixed in with Satoshi’s dreamy voice, “—Don’t come.”

“Oh Ma—Masaki!”

“Don’t come yet – I want you inside me, too.”  Satoshi begged, fingers spread out fan-like over Sho’s chest.  “I want you like this, too.”

Just then, he felt it rather than saw it.  Not just the semen squirting out (with help from Satoshi’s hand) and hit their chest and stomach, but Masaki felt the inner muscles all crashing and pulsating all around his cock.  He had to clench his teeth to not orgasm into the sweet tightness, because in reality, he wanted to get inside Satoshi, too, as much as he liked being inside Sho.

The Newscaster eased off the erection, and pulled Masaki close in his arms to exchange a burning kiss.  Sho’s mouth was pliant and soft; even this kissing was different from the usual.  Satoshi’s kiss was unlike before, hungrier, even biting on his lips for more, throat releasing whimpers.

Sho shifted around, giving Satoshi his space.  Midway, they tumbled over the mattress in fervent kissing; Masaki adored the way his friends dove into one another.  He vaguely wondered if it was alright to just go ahead; he palmed the soft mound of the Idol’s buttock.  The two entangled men made sounds, encouraging the DJ to go on – and he did.

He was still dripping lubricant from his cock, so he eased into the Idol.  It hurt how tight he was, how difficult it was to push in without causing damage.  He had to ask –

“Satoshi—  Is this your first?”

“Yes.  Masaki.  You’re my first.”

“Sho chan…?”

“You’re my first, Masaki.”

The youngest smiled broadly, almost laughing.  He mouthed Satoshi’s skin and received Sho’s kisses as he thrust his hips into the heat.

It didn’t take long – Satoshi had been almost gone anyway.  Satoshi came helplessly against Sho’s thigh, the semen spread and trailed down the pale skin like dandelion petals.  The convulsion, Masaki could not stand; he released inside the Idol in several bursts.

After, Masaki remembered waking up to readjust his body due to the heat.  His skin felt drenched of sweat and slippery come, the saliva drooling down Sho’s chin to his shoulder, the trace of tears on Satoshi’s face against his arm.  He was immobile, the two men quite attached to his limbs, in deep sleep.  Masaki managed to slip his hand free, somehow pulling up the crumpled sheet at the foot of the bed.  He covered their bodies just in case the Idol and the Newscaster felt embarrassed at their nude state in the morning.  He fell asleep to his friends’ steady breathing, the scent of skin and sex and the faint burnt tobacco still hanging in the air.

…

「伸ばした手のひらに触れた光　通り過ぎてゆく　目覚め忘れた　花を濡らして

まるでそれはいつか見た景色　戻れない　ひとり描き続けた　静かな夜に」

“In my outstretched hand, the light brushes past, douses the flower that has forgotten to wake up from sleep

That is like scenery I’ve seen some time, I can’t go back to it, So I kept on drawing by myself, on this quiet night”


	3. Part III  [T.A.B.O.O]

  

  

  

Part III  [T.A.B.O.O]

「Call my nameless name now 」 -T.A.B.O.O

…

“Say it –“

“…”

“Say it again –“

“Sho – chan –“

“Un…  I’m gonna come.  I’m gonna come inside you—“

“Ah—Sho chan—“

Sho thrust his hips as fast and as hard as he could.  His cock was angled for upward thrusts, exacted to hit the spot that made his friend scream every time.  He wiped the sweat from his face, the wet palm against the rock hard buttocks he adored.  Now he could see without the stinging perspiration slipping into his eyes.  He thrust in roughly, making his friend scream – even if he had Satoshi’s dick in his mouth.

Sho watched in lust his two friends’ sixty-nine, Masaki on top on his elbows and knees with Satoshi beneath him.  The Newscaster thrust into his DJ friend hard, once and then pulled out completely.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

Masaki complied, a breathless moan of his name.

“Sho--- Please ---“

Satoshi took his mouth away from Masaki and granted Sho a moment to thrust into his mouth.  He pulled out to a loud wet kiss, making sure Satoshi took Masaki’s cock back in his mouth.  When he thrust into the gaping hole, Sho yelped at the squeeze of muscles, the wetness and the unique texture of being surrounded by Masaki.

He was going to come –

“Masaki – I’m gonna –“

After two full thrusts he came, over-used thighs quaking from the sensation.  He heard Satoshi’s deep intake of air and watched Masaki suck and audibly gulp down the come in his mouth.  He watched his friend lick and mouth the spent sex, always, always too erotic.

“Sato yan—Did it feel good?”

“Mmm hmm –“  The idol hummed his appreciation with his lips still wrapped around the hard cock.

“Sato yan—Masaki hasn’t come yet.  I want to see Masaki come—“

Satoshi maneuvered out from under the DJ.  Sho kissed the swollen lips, tongue swiping the upper and lower lips to savor Masaki’s flavor.

…

Satoshi kept his eyes on Sho, holding Masaki still on his knees, still sporting the oversized erection, panting against Sho’s blushing cheek.

The Idol asked his friend, “Can I, Masaki?”

“Go ahead.  Go ahead, Sat chan—“

With both hands he spread the cheeks apart.  Translucent white fluid leaked out, down the soft inner thigh.  So he licked it, tongue following way up to the puckering hole.  He felt his friend’s shiver, in anticipation most likely, so he went ahead, probing his tongue into his anus.

“Ha—a!!  Sat chan!!”

He rimmed and sucked, Sho’s semen gathering on his tongue.  He kept his eyes on Sho, meeting Masaki’s mouth, locked in a long satiating kiss.  The Idol used the liquid on his tongue to drench his fingers.

“Nnn—Sat chan—“  Masaki whined against Sho’s lips.  For himself, one of Masaki’s long fingers was enough to satisfy him until the thick cock plunged inside him.  He knew he had to do more for Masaki.  His three longest fingers scraped the inner wall; he wanted to hear his friend’s moaning and screaming, the same way he made him, but only received a nosy whine.

More—Masaki was wanting more, he could tell by the small hitching of his hips, the twitch of his cock, the tight shiver of his testicles.

In the next movement, Satoshi added his pinky.

“Mmm—“ Masaki hummed, a hand reaching down to grab his erection, hand began to slide along to the rhythm set by his fingers, even Sho’s kiss matched it.

“I could—Masaki, I could—“

“Go ahead.  Sat chan, go ahead.”

The muscular legs spread out farther to accommodate.

The thumb joined, stretching him beyond he had ever been, excruciatingly slow and tight, but he slid in to his wrist.  His hand was the smallest, the thinnest; Satoshi wondered if Sho could do it to Masaki, too, or if he could take them if they fisted him.  The Idol twisted his hand slowly—he did not want to damage his friend; only to pleasure him.  He knew Masaki felt it anyway.

“Aah!  Sat chan!  I’m--!!”

Satoshi pulled his hand out just the second before the DJ orgasmed.  The back bent like a bow, the semen squirting out of him in molten streams.

“Masaki— You’re beautiful.”

…

Masaki embraced Satoshi, pulling him up over his body like a blanket.

He had suggested it.  He told his two friends that he wanted to be taken; he wanted to be fucked, owned, mesmerized.

The few months since they started having sex, he’d complied with all that his friends had wanted.  He liked it, of course, going down on them, deep inside them, watching their post-coital tango of red tongues and roaming hands.

“Masaki—What would you like for your birthday?”

“Nothing.  I’m fine being here with you two.”

“I can striptease for you…” Satoshi offered, the lips moist, eyes like a quiet sad puppy looking directly into him.

“That would be hot—“

“We’ll do anything you want,” Sho whispered into his ear.

“I’ll think about it,” Masaki smiled.

But he’d forgotten about it.

His birthday came, dated December 24th, Christmas Eve, so he had been scheduled to do a special live radio show.  The show’s staff presented him a cake after the ending – that was when he remembered.

When he got home, his friends were there – the only two friends he needed for the night, or any other night.  Lit candles on a small crème frosted cake were set, as the Idol and Newscaster sang the Happy Birthday song to him.

“Did you think of what you want, Masaki?” Sho asked him.

“Well—“

“You can think better… when we’re in the bedroom,” Satoshi suggested, pulling both men by their hands.

Masaki sat back against the head-board with Sho crouched between his legs.  His zipper and buttons undone, and before he could think, his dick was being attended to by the Newscaster’s soft mouth and long fingers.

And as Satoshi had told him, the lights dimmed and slow sticky vocal-less music flowed around the room as the Idol danced.

“You’ve already prepared a gift, huh?” Masaki laughed and choked at the sight of Satoshi slowly pulling down the zipper to this black faux leather jacket thing he had on, and the moment exacted with the tip of his erection hitting the back of Sho’s throat.

“No—“ the Idol dropped his pants, bending forward to show him his behind.  “This is like a… Pre-show…”

The DJ swallowed, watching the Idol dance to the slow music, body leaning and grinding against one of the posts of his bed frames.  The music changed to something familiar.  The rhythm and melody he had listened to a thousand times.

“Rain—“

It was one of Satoshi’s songs, vocal-less though, the dance beat like the sound of thunderstorms and sorrow.

Masaki sucked in air, the sexiness of Sho’s lips around his dick and the lithe movements of the Idol in front of him.  The underwear fell off, sliding down the thin muscular legs in a slip of silk.  The erection stood stiff as Satoshi continued to glide and wave through the music.

Masaki had been to all-male strip clubs to know what went on in places like that.  His friends had even bought him a few lap-dances from cute go-go boys in tight almost see through underpants.  But none of them moved the way the Idol danced.  It was erotic, his half lidded eyes, the slightly opened mouth, the skin gleaming in perspiration and the way his body weaved as though it were making music.

The song stopped; the Idol climbed up the bed like a lithe cat.

“Did you figure out what you want?”

Sho rose up, lapping up the drops of come at the slit of his cock.

“Yes.”

His two friends looked up at him with faces that said, we’ll do whatever you want with us.

“I want Sho chan and Sat chan to fuck me.”

…

「Call my nameless name now この罪をshareで Tell me

What you wanna do wanna do now  But そこで Taboo

Close to me 　デキレ－スな game で堕ちる　君が犯すPerfect crime

It’s too late go back 辿り着く先はもう Heavenly  Let it be　果てまで」

…

The New Year had arrived.  Masaki was back to work.  It was the third recording of the day to fulfill the need for the next two weeks.  As the queue sign went off from the director through the glass partition, Masaki picked a postcard for request.  The songs weren’t played during recordings, just his talking.  He read the neat handwriting on the postcard.

[I love listening to Recomen every night on my way home from juku.]

“No way!  Thank you for listening!”

[I’ve read in a recent magazine that Aiba san is good friends with Ohno Satoshi san.  I’m a big fan of his!  So this excited me much.  Please play your favorite Ohno Satoshi song!]

“Well, yes, Ohno san and I are friends.  There are so many good tunes from this guy!  I don’t know what to choose!  Oh, I know!  This hasn’t been aired in a while, I’ll bet.  From a few years ago.  This was Aiba Masaki, the last Recomen of the night, signing off with very popular idol Ohno Satoshi san’s Rain.  See you next week~”


	4. Part IV  [このままもっと]  More just like this

  

  

  

Part IV  [このままもっと]  More just like this

「重なり合ったvibration　君と鳴らしたheart beat　風が通り過ぎた　

あの頃からほんのちょっと　大人になれた気がした」

“Overlapped vibration; heart beat that rang with you; the wind brushed past;

From that time I felt like I became a little more grown up” - このままもっと

 

…

Masaki was the first one to put his chopsticks down and said, “Thank you for the meal.”

Satoshi ate slowly and silently, the way he chewed and swallowed repeatedly was so adorable.  The DJ heaped another spoonful of rice for his favorite Idol, just because he liked to stare at him chewing and savoring the meat.  Satoshi pouted into the bowl but didn’t say he was full or couldn’t eat anymore.  Masaki liked that his friend never said ‘no’ to him, no matter what it was.

The DJ concentrated on cooking the slices of meat.  When each slice was thoroughly cooked he popped one into Sho’s mouth.  The Newscaster’s eyes crinkled into a happy smile each time, then waited for Masaki to feed him.  He pointed at which sauce he wanted; it was too adorable.  Whenever they had meals, Sho’s mouth was always full of food and he couldn’t say a word.

Masaki was used to them.  He liked the small things about them no one else noticed.  Like, despite the way he looked, Satoshi couldn’t handle bugs and critters, reptiles, even birds.  Even ants scared him.  One time he’d jumped into Masaki’s lap because an ant had made an appearance on their coffee table.  Sho couldn’t deal with heights at all.  Their Idol friend had to sleep in a hotel room during his tour so the he and Sho had gone to see the Live and shared the room.  (It was impossible to get to the Tokyo show as too many people would recognize them)  The hotel room was on the 27th story.  The suite was nice and private, the balcony overlooking the sleeping city and mountains.  Masaki wanted to try having sex on the balcony, no one would see them in the darkness and the air was so cool.  Satoshi agreed and got on his knees immediately but Sho remained at the threshold holding onto the door for dear life.  His teary eyes mixed with fear and lust was too adorable. Masaki let Sho just watch from inside while he fucked Satoshi bent over the railing then fucked Sho on the extra soft king sized bed.

Okay, maybe they weren’t small things, but whatever it was, it was Satoshi and it was Sho.  That was all he needed.

Masaki fed the last piece of roasted beef to Sho and made sure Satoshi drank water.  The check came and he paid for it.

The weather was fierce outside so he gave the two men time to dress for the cold (even if the walk to the car was only minutes).  He helped Sho wrap a heavy scarf around the lower half of his face.  The eyes smiled into his.  He fixed the knit hat over Satoshi’s head, pulling it low over the eyebrows.

Masaki wanted to kiss both of them right there; but people were around and some might have recognized the Newscaster and definitely the Idol.

Outside, the wind blew harshly into their faces.  Masaki herded the smaller men to the car, holding the door open as they shuffled into the backseat.  Instead of trying to take turns up front, they opted to sit in the back together.  That was fine, and it would be less distracting when he drove.

The ignition turned on smoothly.  The DJ turned up the heat, waiting for the car to warm up.  He looked into the back through the rearview mirror.  He was going to wait.  He definitely was.  They’d been sleeping together for over a year.  He saw Satoshi with a small pout, because his hair stuck up due to static from the hat, and Sho struggling to undo the scarf so he could chatter on.  He couldn’t stop.

“Satoshi, Sho chan, do you want to move in with me?”

The faces they made—

…

Sho frowned at the blueprint spread out in front of him.  Some places he’d looked at so far were too small, some too big.  He knew it wasn’t on a whim that Masaki asked them to move in together.  But his current apartment was too small; even if they spent a lot of time there, the reality of it was that a 1LDK was far too small for three grown men.

“Perhaps a dog…” Sho said to the realtor.  Another pile of papers and layouts were presented to him.

Masaki liked animals a lot, and maybe they could have a pet…

The Newscaster figured they would each need a room, despite sharing a bed, a space of privacy couldn’t be a bad idea in the long run.

In the long run… Sho smiled at the blueprint.

Do you want to move in with me?

It was definite.  He was in this for life.  Satoshi had put on this radiant smile first at Masaki who’d asked then at him and nodded vigorously.  Sho had agreed – but out of the three, he had to be the rational one.

‘Let’s find a new place for the three of us.’

Masaki said he’d do whatever they wanted.  Satoshi was the one who said he would purchase a new house.  It turned out that Satoshi had never owned anything which required good credit scores (he didn’t even have a car or driver’s license) so he couldn’t buy a mansion even if he could afford it under his name.  Masaki seemed to think that his current rental was fine, until Sho made them sit with him to discuss it.

‘I could buy a decent place, get a mortgage under my name.  The three of us should be able to afford it.’

That was when Satoshi pulled out his checkbook.  Neither he nor Masaki had ever seen so many digits.  They’d refused to let the Idol pay for everything.  Until Satoshi took their lips.  ‘I want this so bad.  I don’t care about money.  I just want to be with you all the time.’

Sho was immersed into such passionate sex that evening taking turns to fill Satoshi up with all they had.  In the end though, it was he who ended up crying, held between Masaki and Satoshi.

“This one may work,” Sho pointed to the blueprint.  The realtor set up an appointment right away to go see the unit.

‘I’m very happy.  These are happy tears—‘

…

Satoshi opened his mobile phone and checked his mail box.

[We’re almost finished. :D  A few more boxes left. :D ]  And an attached picture was Sho carrying a box through the main entrance to their new place.  He had on a sleeveless tee shirt, showing off the muscular arms.  The box looked heavy but Sho was smiling.  His mouth was in the middle of saying, probably, get back to work, to Masaki.  Satoshi had to laugh, too.  He was so ecstatic he thought he would die.

[I’m sorry I can’t be there to help.]  Satoshi sent the email and closed his phone.

When he had told his Jimusho of his moving, they had set up discrete movers for all of his stuff.  The new mansion, he said, he was going to live in by himself.  The paparazzi had set up camp for almost a month at the building to see if any female accompanied him to his new 3LDK.  Rumors had gone out that the Idol was moving in with a girlfriend, thus the larger, newer place, but no one got a photo of him (or a glimpse) with anyone.  Since the place was furnished (all to Sho’s liking, neither he nor Masaki minded) before he moved in, so no one found out the three sets of beds or furniture for three adults being delivered up there.

Today, the Idol had an entire day of work lined up.  When his schedule was obviously busy, the paparazzi rested staking out the Idol’s private home.  He supposed they were human, too, and would want rest just as he did and everyone else.  Satoshi yawned into the script of the day’s show.  Some of the guests he knew, some only the faces.

[Don’t worry about that!  Do well in filming today.  Our new place is looking great! ^^V ]

Another message arrived in that typical Masaki way with lots of emoticons and smiling faces.  Our new place…

Our place…

Another attached picture was Masaki’s self-taken photo; a green bandana wrapped around his golden head and sweat soaking his tee.  His lips were all red from the heat and the labor.  Satoshi touched the photo in his hand with a finger, tracing the lines of the lips.

[Let’s have soba tonight.  I’ll pick them up on my way home.]

“Ohno san, we’re starting soon,” the A.D. relayed to him.

“Yes.  I’ll be right there.”

Our place…

Satoshi smiled as he stepped into the set.

…

“Matte!  Matte!  Muri da yo!  Mu~ri!”

Masaki kissed Satoshi’s cheek through his protest.  The Idol couldn’t move much anyway but flail his limbs.  As soon as he’d arrived, the DJ had caught Satoshi before he could come in, lifted him up into his arms to carry him through the threshold.  But the Idol didn’t know the motive and made the process harder than necessary.

When he was through, he put down Satoshi gently inside their new place.  He wanted to keep him in his embrace but he let him get on his feet.

“I can walk in on my own.”  Satoshi complained, going back out for the bags of soba take-out he’d promised to bring, his shoulder bag he’d dropped when the DJ picked him up.

“Sato yan~” Sho helped the Idol as Masaki made his sad face.  “Masaki read somewhere about how in the western culture, the newlyweds carry their bride through the threshold the first time moving in together as a symbol for everlasting life together.  He carried me this morning.”

Masaki was caught against Satoshi, their hands held together.

“Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I see.”  Masaki smiled now but the Idol looked remorseful.  So he just messed the perfectly shaped hair.

They entered the kitchen and dining area, lit with new light bulbs hanging from the high ceiling just above the table.  Sho had set up the food already waiting at the round table for the other two.  The three ate in silence.  They were all famished from the long day.  The house was quiet, being on the very top floor and dark without the lights on.  After the kitchen was cleared of their late dinner, they lounged in the living room, over the big soft carpet.  They were too exhausted to do anything other than hold each other.  The boxes still lay haphazardly all over, the dust not yet settled from all the moving around.

In the end, they went into Satoshi’s room (he’d been living alone for a month so his was the only bed sleepable on their first night) and quickly fell asleep in a heap of bodies.

…

Even though they were exhausted, they woke to the beautiful sunrise.  The fault might have been that they didn’t close the curtains before falling asleep, but whatever the reason, they were happy, waking up together in their beautiful new home.

“Masaki—“ Sho said into the DJ’s neck.  “Sato yan— I had a dream the two of you were fucking me so hard…”

The Newscaster mewed and growled like a woken kitten.  He grinded his erection against the body he was hugging tight.  Then he felt the smaller man’s body behind him, the heat of his naked skin, and the hardness of his aroused sex against his thigh.  Without hesitance he offered his ass, his leg lifted up by Masaki’s strong arms.

Satoshi’s sex pushed in easily; in the morning, his muscles were more relaxed, limbs pliant.  Their bodies were spooned together, the thrusts long and slow.  Sho opened his eyes, looking deep into Masaki’s.  The electric tingling began from his hole, through his intestines, up his spinal cords, to the tip of his nose.  And Masaki kissed him there, then his lips, his eyelids, tongue grazing over the thick lashes, and his knee, drawn up to the DJ’s shoulder.

“Ah—Harder.  Please.  Sato yan—Harder!”

The Idol pushed him down, half into the mattress, half into Masaki.  His slender fingers clawed his back as his hips began to pound into him.  Now that the three men were fully awake, they were recharged with the energy to do what they wanted.  And Sho wanted to be taken hard – they would comply.

Sho moaned, meowed like a cat against Masaki’s shoulder, each burst set by Satoshi’s hips.

“Ah—Ha—Hah—! Sato—shi!  Sato—!!”

“Sho!  Sho—!!“

Satoshi came inside Sho without losing his rhythm.  He thrust in until he’d gone absolutely soft.  Sho held him in place, the muscles squeezing almost painfully, until Masaki took Satoshi’s place behind him.  Sho grunted into the pillow, which smelled like Satoshi’s hair and skin, when Masaki’s cock aimed and thrust inside him.  When he wanted to be fucked roughly, he wanted to be fucked so roughly, so hard that he couldn’t walk or sit.

“Harder—“ Sho yelped.  “Deeper!!”

The bedroom was filled with the hard smacks of body hitting against body, wet skin against wet skin, the harsh grunts, ragged breathing and tiny whimpers from the pit of the stomach.  Sho repeated Masaki’s name, begging him to go faster, rougher, deeper.  Satoshi brushed back the hair from his face, kissing his mouth, penetrating him as deep as Masaki was.  Sho imagined Masaki’s cock and Satoshi’s tongue meeting inside him, in the middle where it was so hot and full of heated air.  He closed his eyes to find the image of the Idol’s wet tongue licking that thick velvety cap of the DJ’s dick, giving him amazing head inside his stomach.  Or something erotic like that.  Sho sucked at the deep kiss.

“—‘m… comin’—“  All he could do was mumble inside Satoshi’s mouth.  But Masaki’s paces quickened still, grinding his body into the mattress, understanding his words.

“M—ah— saki!!”

Sho ejaculated into the sheets.  He felt the hot liquid in his system, where he imagined the semen pooled on Satoshi’s tongue.  Sho stayed still.  Masaki pulled his cock out but kept Sho where he was.  His muscles clenched from the invasion, legs stretched out not in a comfortable way, but he wanted Masaki and Satoshi in him no matter what.

“Mmm…  Sat chan…  Our semen’s flowing out of Sho chan…” Masaki had his ass cheeks spread apart, almost lewdly, watching his bodily function.  Sho would let him, while hiding his bright blush.  Anything he wanted…  Masaki licked and bit into his thighs, the red butt cheeks, and even tongued his hole, widened from being fucked the way he liked so well.

“Masaki—“

“Tired?”

“No.  Happy.”  Sho smiled into Satoshi’s arms, holding him tight through it all.  How could he describe this happiness?  What words was he supposed to use?  He could think through all the books he’d read, every letter his eyes ever took in, but nothing sufficed how he felt then.  It was better than a dream, fulfilled and carried out even farther than he could ever think of.  With Satoshi’s silent tempestuous invasion and the strength of Masaki’s body, his heart, his unwavering stare, made him complete.  His life was complete.

Masaki’s long body cradled his, aligning perfectly.  Satoshi lay in his arms, the fuzzy morning hair fitted beneath his chin.

Masaki—Satoshi—I love you—

…


	5. Part V [Hung Up On]

  

  

  

Part V [Hung Up On]

「You’re just like a… 暁の明星  Hung up on your… 暁の表情 」

“You’re just like a… aurora’s bright star; Hung up on your… aurora’s expression” – Hung Up On

…

Satoshi had to endure the great slap across his face.  His management team had been angry before; like when he’d come back tanned from a two day fishing trip.  He’d been yelled at but that was about it.  When a scandal broke out between him and an actress, they’d asked him if it were true.  He’d denied.  And they’d just taken care of it.  But this time, his manager swung hard and hit the Idol.  But Satoshi didn’t cry.

He received another smack on the opposite cheek.  The blow had made him fall backwards, stumbling, bring down the contents of the meeting room table with him.  The stylists were at his side immediately, making fuss.  The angry manager left the room in a hurricane of fury – Satoshi only supposed it a right reaction.

The newspapers fallen in the mess caught his eyes.  His pictures from the previous single dominated most of the front cover.  The copy in big block colored letters said ‘Idol Ohno Satoshi in Gay Relationship?!’  The paper next to it said, ‘Ohno Satoshi Shocking Coming Out!’  All the others were pretty much the same, variation in wordings and colors, pictures and the actual article – but all generally same idea.

And they all contained the same three black and white paparazzi pictures.  He was walking with his arm linked with a male whose face was not visible.  Another at a bar he’d gone to, his mouth leaning up to kiss a male’s cheek, perhaps his lips – too dark to decipher who his ‘partner’ could be.  The third was him getting into a taxicab with another male, whose face was covered in shadow of his cap, no mosaic needed, but distinguishably different from the first male.

Satoshi trembled violently.  He should have taken precautions – better precautions, and he had thought no one was watching – that there were no cameras anywhere.

He didn’t cry.  His stylists helped him to sit in a chair instead of the floor.  They caressed his burning, swollen cheek and told him repeatedly that it will be alright.  Everything was going to be alright.

Satoshi sighed heavily.  At least none of the reporters seemed to have figured out who his two ‘partners’ were.  He knew whose mouth he was kissing and whose hand he was holding in the photos.  They didn’t.  They’ll never get that out of him.

Satoshi was dying to know if Sho or Masaki had seen the papers or were affected by them.  But he had to shut his phone off, take the battery out.  He could only think… Please, let them be alright…

If only he had taken better care…

There weren’t supposed to be any repercussions like this…

He wasn’t dating them.  They were just friends; friends he would do everything to protect, to give up all he had for, friends he couldn’t do without—

He loved Sho and Masaki.

The door opened.  His manager came back, his mobile phone ringing even as he spoke to him.

“Ohno kun.  All your work has been suspended until we say so.  I’m going to take you home now.”

The manager bowed, apologizing for using violence.  Satoshi shook his head, saying he understood.  His stylists put a hooded shirt and a low cap over his head, a seldom worn pair of sunglasses.  Even if the basement parking lot was the company’s private property, anyone could have snuck in there.

…

Masaki frowned at the amount of postcards his how had gotten on the subject of Ohno Satoshi.  Mostly from the fans in the Idol’s fan club, they were asking, begging, demanding the DJ for the names of the two men in the paparazzi photos.  He and Satoshi were friends, so he must know the answers, the postcards said.  Masaki flipped over a few, written in English (which he didn’t really understand other than the nuance) from countries his show’s airwaves didn’t even hit.

It was almost comical (laughable) how no one thought that he could be one of those males – but not many people knew what he looked like, he supposed.  But it felt like they were all saying, you’re safe, you’re way out of his league, you’re just a friend.

The director and script writer had a hard time but managed to find enough requests for the show that didn’t relate to Ohno Satoshi.  Apparently, other DJs, other talents who had any encounter with the Idol were getting the same treatment through postcards, emails and BBS.  So no one thought it odd that Aiba Masaki’s Recomen received so many of the questions.

Even though he was having a hard time hiding a scowl—

Masaki had spent the past three days at home taking care of Satoshi.  Sho had work – he could not miss them no matter the reasons – but when he was home, he kept the Idol inside his arms as if that would change everything, keep all the bad things from him.  Masaki had to be the one to try to get food in them, keep the TV or Internet away, to unhook the phone and the radio unplugged.

The first day, he was woken by the Idol and had to hear what had happened.  Masaki had been sleeping in that day after sending Sho and Satoshi off to work with cups of coffee he’d brewed and kisses to the forehead.  He’d been thinking of things to do until his friends got back, like the laundry, food shopping, maybe cleaning up, but eventually fell back into sleep.  Satoshi came bearing the news, eyes glistening, and crawled into his arms.  He couldn’t do anything but pet his hair until Sho came home.  When the three were together, holding on to each other, Satoshi wept.  It broke Masaki’s heart.

Second day, Satoshi remained immobile, like an aftershock of a car accident.  Sho reluctantly left for work, kissing him softly.  Masaki did not want to but left Satoshi alone at home while he went to the grocery store.  He returned home to find him in the same fetal position on the couch.  They had light lunches, eating quietly.  Satoshi didn’t react to anything much other than the small pecks on his lips whenever Masaki stepped away.  They didn’t converse, but Masaki saw after each kiss, Satoshi’s eyes flickering with unshed tears and traces of guilt.  When Sho returned, Satoshi wept openly again – leading Masaki to think that perhaps the Idol just wanted Sho with him.

But Satoshi had clenched his hand when he tried to go away, so he knew – it had to be both him and Sho.

This morning after waking Sho and Satoshi up with mugs of hot coffee, he went out for work.  He had to stay the entire day to record enough materials for all next week.

All he had on his mind was Satoshi.

He couldn’t call – Satoshi had his phone off, the home phone still unhooked.  He’d gotten messages from Sho that Satoshi had eaten lunch and he was leaving for work.

Then his day ended in a blur.  He’d called in for take-out, something sweet and spicy his friends would love.  He waited for Sho to meet him after his work was done, and drove home together.  Sho held his hand in silence the entire time.

The door was unlocked, immediately worrying the two men.  All the lights were off, other than the sliver of luminescence from Satoshi’s room.

“Sat chan?” Masaki knocked with Sho behind him.

“Come in!” Satoshi’s voice was normal, the way it showed happy emotions whenever he and Sho were with him.  He was sitting on his bed, holding a leaf of paper, and had his headset on.

“Sato yan?” Sho called his friend with worry.

“I’m going back to work tomorrow!  I’m going to record a new single!”

The smile Satoshi showed them were brighter than any light they’d seen in their lives.  But Masaki thought he’d caught a glint in those eyes, sadder than the ones he’d seen in the past two days.  It was gone too quickly to decipher.

…

「Forever; Loving; But we’re alone;　冷めない愛を欲しがって;

Every day; Call you in a daydream; Oh 幻想後悔; Don’t back out」

“Forever; Loving; But we’re alone; Desiring love that never cools down;

Every day; Call you in a daydream; Oh Illusion, Regret; Don’t back out”  - Hung Up On

…

Sho slept in until the afternoon.  It was his day off so he liked to sleep in late unless he wanted to be groggy all day.  The afternoon sunlight filtered in through the shades, making the room too hot to sleep in.  The Newscaster already had his shirt thrown to the floor, the sheets kicked to a crumpled pile at the foot of the bed; still, he was covered in sheen of sweat, not unpleasant but he woke up to a need for a shower.  He shook out his hair and briefly wondered how he sometimes slept in with his friends without bruising them with his kicks and bites.  He smiled, eyes squinting against the bright rectangle of his windows.  It must be close to noon.

He scratched his flat belly then stuck his hand in his underpants as most men do, unconsciously.  The house was quiet.  Masaki had his cable TV filming in the morning.  Sho vaguely recalled the dreamy kiss against his skin and Masaki’s sweet voice saying that he’d be back in the afternoon.  He bit at his chapped lips, and opened the refrigerator for water.  And just as he expected, there was a tall glass of iced coffee, sweet and thick with crème and a sandwich saran wrapped with an apple on the side.

There was only one sandwich so Sho wondered if Satoshi had already gone out.  The Idol had been excited about going back to work in the previous night.  Just as he and Masaki had been promising him, everything took care of itself and the Idol was back to work in a few days.  The rest probably did him good anyway.  Sho had been fretting over Satoshi’s lost weight, the ribs sticking out and the angles of the sharp hipbones.

In Satoshi’s happiness, they’d had sex – no.  It was still insufficient.  They’d made love.

Sho bit into his sandwich.  The cold cuts were delicious and Masaki’s special mustard sauce made it even better.  There were cucumbers in it which he didn’t like, but didn’t pick them out.  Masaki didn’t give them kisses if they didn’t eat their veggies.

He chewed while milling over the previous night.  It was definitely love what they did.

Satoshi lay in the pile of pillows, face bright red from passion and the teasing.  He opened up his arms and his thighs, receiving him, his sex and his kisses.  He was surrounded by Satoshi, his muscles, his heat, his unique sweet scent resembling honey and sea breeze.

The Masaki impaled him.  It caused him to choke air but he would never want it any other way.  Sho didn’t want anyone else.  Only Masaki and Satoshi could dig into him, not just physically, but his heart and be buried in there.

They moved slowly, feeling each other, hearing each breath and moan, and holding on.

‘翔は僕の暁の明星…雅紀は僕の暁の表情…’ **

In the moment between night and morning, Satoshi had whispered this, held tightly between he and Masaki.

‘I’m forever yours…’

Sho put the empty plate and glass into the sink.  It was funny how he missed them already.  Masaki was most likely finished filming by now.  He wondered when Satoshi would be done.  The Idol usually finished recording in the late evenings, perhaps past midnight…

‘…暁の明星…’

Crack-----

The glass in the sink suddenly broke against Sho’s fingers.  A thin cut appeared, making a bloody streak on his index finger.  It went immediately into Sho’s mouth.  On a second thought, he ran cold water from the faucet over his finger.  The bloody tang was left on his tongue.

A chill ran through Sho’s body.

A chill like he’d never felt before.

Sho ran into Satoshi’s bedroom, the door shut tight as if hiding a secret…

“Satoshi!!”

The door burst open.  The room was empty, still holding that subtle scent of sex, the stuffy heat of the sun, the floating dust particles.  The bed was made neatly.  Sho’s fingers trembled against the doorknob.

He opened the closet, the bureaus and the desk.  His clothes were mostly there, other than the ones he wore frequently.  His drawing pads and the watercolor set, which he and Masaki had given him on his birthday, were all gone.  The bureaus were empty.  Things were there but everything Satoshi valued were gone.

Sho frantically retrieved his mobile phone and dialed Satoshi’s number.

“Answer…  Damn it, answer…”

[The number you have reached is not in service—]

“Satoshi!”

He redialed, over and over again, but all he got was the same recorded voice saying the phone number did not exist anymore.  He was panicking.  He had to call Masaki.  The DJ answered on the third ring.

[Hi.  I’m on my way home—]

“Satoshi’s gone!”

[What?  He’s recording today—]

“All his stuff is gone.  His phone is off.  He’s not here!”

[Sho chan.  I don’t understand.  I’ll be home soon.  Just—Stay there and wait, alright?]

 

** ‘Sho is my aurora’s bright star…  Masaki is my aurora’s expression…’

aurora = (with lowercase a) dawn – more poetic usage of  ‘the dawn’ which the author felt more appropriate for this case

…

「Tell me a truth; Hung up on どうしたって葛藤のFunk…」

“Tell me a truth; Hung up on however it gets tangled funk…” – Hung Up On

…

Masaki punched in the numbers for the security pad of their home’s entrance.  It beeped and unlocked to admit him.

In the morning he’d woken up to his alarm clock.  He’d gotten ready quickly, stuffing his bag with the script, his wallet and phone.  He’d stopped in Sho’s room to check up on his friend.  The nightshirt, pants, and sheets were kicked to the floor.  He smiled at the naked back and the sweat tangled hair, pulling the sheet up over his body.  He pushed back the bangs, kissed his round forehead.  Sho whimpered something sleepily but didn’t wake up.  Then he had checked up on Satoshi, sleeping the way they’d left him.  The sheets and covers were still pulled up to his neck, the pillows still surrounding him.  Satoshi slept peacefully, hands curled up like a baby, snoring lightly.  Masaki brushed back his hair as he’d done to Sho, to give him a light peck.

The Idol opened his heavy eyelids, and looked at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay—“

“I’m going to work now.”

“Masaki—I—“

“Hmm?”

Satoshi wrapped both arms around his neck.  The softness, the warmth of his skin was all around him.  It made him wistful, even though Satoshi was right there in front of him with his lips curled up at each corner.

“Masaki…  I love you…”

The words electrified him, all his senses; like a lightning storm, like hurricane.  The room felt foggy and small, unbearable because he couldn’t see or hear; he would be blind, deaf and mute.  It was as if he had been sedated infinitely; but there was nothing else he would ever need again.

“I love you… and I love Sho chan.  I really do—I love you—“

Masaki could only kiss him, deeper than he ever had before, because in this fog of Satoshi’s confession, he couldn’t do anything else, see beyond the person in his arms.

So he couldn’t say it back…

I love you, too…

He was going to.  He was planning to.

He found Sho in Satoshi’s room, sitting against where there had been an unfinished drawing tacked on the drywall.  The small face was streaked with traces of fallen tears.  Sho was the one who cried most out of the three of them, and the large eyes were full of unshed ones.  Masaki didn’t have to try to look into the closet or the bathroom, the bureaus—they all stood open and empty.  He’d called Satoshi’s phone about twenty-some times, always getting the same automated voice saying the number was not in service.

Masaki plopped down in front of Sho.

He searched the palms of his hands laid helplessly in front of him for some sort of answers.  The lines went deep, curvy and mysterious—and the answers weren’t there, or he couldn’t decipher them.  Sho’s mobile phone was dropped on top of one open hand.

“Did you get in contact with—“

Sniffle.  “No.”  His voice was clogged and the Newscaster sniffed once more before continuing.  “He left me a voicemail.”

Masaki opened the flip, dialing for the mailbox.  He pressed the appropriate buttons for the command.  The phone was pressed hard against one ear.

[僕の暁の明星…雅紀…僕の暁の表情… No matter what happens, I love you.  Please know, I love you and Masaki.  I’ll always be for Sho chan and Masaki…  I swear…]

Masaki couldn’t contain the tears.  He was the one who ended up in his friend’s embrace to weep...

…

It was hot inside the booth, but he didn’t complain.  He grabbed a third bottle of water to quench his overused, dry throat.

Satoshi knew it would come to this one day.  He was living with not one but two men.  They could be called roommates, but roommates didn’t have sex like they had sex.  If he had come out, fine, the Jimusho would have covered it up, something like a light scandal with a second-rate model who would take the cash (and maybe a little fame).  But two…  Two males who weren’t even considered ‘boyfriends’ or ‘lovers’, just friends.  They wanted him to go see a shrink.

When the producer called, Satoshi really thought, this is it, it’s all over.  A part of him had wanted to be taken care of as he had been for the past ten years or so.  But the other, larger, part of him wanted it to be over – he wanted to be with Sho and Masaki.

‘You move out of there.  You’re going to stay in the company housing.  You’ll have a new mobile phone tomorrow.  You’ll never see them again.’

‘But I love them…  I really love them…’

‘We can ruin them.  If you think we have no clue of their identity, you’re wrong.  The small time DJ can be replaced quickly.  The Newscaster can be fired.  Do you really want that?’

‘No—‘

‘You have a contract to fulfill, don’t you, Ohno kun?  You’ll release a new single.  You’ll publicly make statements saying you are not in a relationship and that those photos were fakes.  And most importantly, you’ll never see them again.’

‘I understand…’

It was love.  He had to do it.  If it were only to protect his friends, he wouldn’t have enough courage to.  But it was love.  Only through love could he do it…   Leave them…  Never see them again…

‘…I’ll leave tomorrow morning.’

 

“You’re just like a…暁の明星…  Hung up on your…暁の表情…”

[Wait, what was that?  Ohno kun…  That was good.  Could you sing that again?  It’ll work well with the song…]

“Yes, sure…”

Always…  Forever…

 

…


	6. Part  VI 「声」

  

  

  

Part  VI 「声」

「風の町に佇んだまま 振り向けばもう陽は落ちて消えてた 始まる静かな夜を一人見ていた」

“Standing still for a moment in the windy street; When I turn around the sun was already gone;

I was watching the beginning of a silent night by myself” – 声 (Voice)

…

“Oi, Aiba kun.”  The voice belonged to the actor Ninomiya Kazunari.

“Good afternoon,” Aiba replied as jovially as he could.

 

Three months passed.  In those three months, Masaki didn’t know what went on with his life.  Work was a standard thing, the constant reminder that time was ticking by.

In the first month, he couldn’t do anything but work.  Everything else was irrelevant.  There was still Sho, who clung to him like a kitten, afraid to lose him, too, perhaps.  At nights, he lay with Sho curled up beside him, praying for Satoshi to come back.  But he didn’t.

The second month, Masaki had to hide in the bathroom of the radio building when he received the new singles of the week from various artists.  Ohno Satoshi, ‘Hung Up On’.  He listened to it once and bawled into his closed fist like the first night he knew Satoshi wasn’t coming back.  The beats were dance like, new, a different but still ‘Ohno Satoshi’ style.  But it was the first lines of the song that made him hide away…  The phrases the Idol kept repeating were in the song…  As if it was the only way to communicate with them…  Masaki had to give his hundred percent to sound like his usual self, but he stumbled once while saying the Idol’s song title.

After that, it got better.  Work was easier to cope with and he occasionally went out with friends, too.  He went out with Sho, like the way it used to be before meeting Satoshi, but it was as if a giant chunk of him was missing, gone, cut away with a jagged, rusty old knife.  Sho told him the exact same thing he was feeling.  They couldn’t even make love, didn’t attempt to after the one failure, but clung to each other more in sleep.

In the third month, Masaki received a call from Sho, crying into the mobile, begging him to come to him.  Masaki ran, climbed all the steps, impatient to wait for the elevator, and burst in to Sho’s dressing room.  The news show was over.  The Caster should have been readying to go home for the evening.  But he sat at the table, elbows propped up, his face buried into his hands.  Masaki knew what it was all about before Sho explained.

“We were in the elevator together…  He wouldn’t even look at me…  And just… Walked away… Like he didn’t know me…  I can’t keep hoping…  That he would come back…  I can’t, Masaki, I can’t…  I miss him…”

Masaki had gathered the Newscaster up to take him home.  It was then he noticed the lightness of Sho’s body, the rib bones and sharpness of his thinned face, the roughness of his skin…  He had to take care of Sho.  He knew he probably looked worse, but Sho was here beside him.  He had to take care of him.

So he kissed him, tasting the salt of the tears and the sorrow…

If I don’t want to regret again…

“Let’s go home, Sho chan…”

 

“You don’t look too great.  Anything the matter?” Ninomiya asked.

“No.  Nothing.  Everything’s fine.”

“You’re close with Ohno Satoshi, aren’t you?  He’s so skinny now – lifeless almost.  Know what’s up with him?”

“No.  I don’t…”

“Must be something going around.  Careful now…”

 

If you are suffering as much as I am, it’s more pain to me, so please, don’t be in pain anymore…

…

“Masaki—“

“Hmm?”

“Do you believe everything happens for some reason beyond ourselves?”

“…”

“I kept thinking Satoshi left because he doesn’t want to be here, but, he sings that song…  There must be a reason…  He must be trying to protect this… us…”

“…”

“Would you fuck me now?”

“…I… don’t know…”

“I know.  I can’t without Satoshi either.”

“But I want to, I just…”

“I know.  I… I love you, Masaki…”

“…”

“Sometimes I wish we’d never met…  That we had never fallen in love…  Because it hurts.  It hurts, Masaki.  It hurts so much…”

…

「小さな嘘も我侭もいつも君のせいにしようとした」

“Even the small lies, or the stubbornness, always tried to turn it into your fault” – 声

…

Sho found the lips taunting his sex, the hands spreading him apart as wide as physically possible, fingers of both his friends stretching and probing him deep.  He could only claw at the sheets.  He wasn’t sure who had him first; just the idea of being taken this roughly made him cringe.

Deeper…  Deeper…

Fuck me harder…

They took turns with him.  Sho granted them.

Whatever you want…

They put him in every position he could dream of, and more.  It was all so good…  So good…

Harder… Deeper…

Fuck me…  Never stop fucking me…

Their teeth bit down on his skin, tearing him up, blood streaming down, and the same mouth kissing him, the flavor of blood and hardcore fucking in all his surfaces...

I’m coming…  Masaki…  Satoshi…

Sho woke up drenched in sweat, his dick throbbing and hard inside his underpants.  He closed the small space between he and Masaki, and his friend sleepily drew him in.

All Sho could do was weep into Masaki’s arm under his chin and neck; weep quietly so he wouldn’t wake Masaki.

He couldn’t even sleep without Masaki and Satoshi…

Help me…

I love you…

…

“Sakurai san!  Sakurai san!”

The teenage boy called his name, so he turned towards the voice.  It was the recently debuted group…  He’d forgotten their name…  But they were filming in the next hall while he MC’ed this popular Saturday Night program.  What was his name again?

“Ah!  Chi… nen kun, right?”

“Yes!  How are you, Sakurai san?”

“Pretty well.  Yourself?”

“Me, too!” The boy had a naturally cute face and a bright clear smile.  He was dressed in a dance outfit along with his other (nine!) members.  The first time he’d met Chinen Yuuri, he’d been told how he wanted to be just like Sakurai Sho.  But then the boy had blushed when he told him how he knew about his being Ohno Satoshi’s fan, and the Idol’s influence on him.  But it had been a joke, even if Chinen spent the next thirty minutes explaining the difference.  Besides Satoshi had mentioned the boy’s name too many times to not take advantage of the situation…

“Ano…  Sakurai san…  Ohno Sempai asked me to give you this if I saw you here…”

Sho’s eyes grew large.

“Thank… You…”

The boy ran back to his group and Sho tried to focus on the work at hand, not the greeting card sized envelope in his hand.  He would wait and open it with Masaki.

 

When they opened it, a burnt CD fell out.  There was no note, no letter, just the CD.  Sho put it into his laptop’s CD drive, Masaki next to him eager to find out.

It opened up as a movie clip, so he played it.  He could feel Masaki’s smile radiating, brighter than the screen, because he was too.

[I miss you…] was the first thing video Satoshi said.  His hair was shorter (though they’d seen on TV already) and he looked smaller.  [I miss you…] he repeated.

[Let me take care of this and when it’s over, I swear, I’ll be with the two of you forever…  I miss you…]

Like the video Satoshi, Sho’s eyes swelled up with tears.

[僕の暁の明星… 僕の暁の表情…  Take me far away…]

The clip ended too fast.  But that was enough.  Sho didn’t cry anymore…  Satoshi loved them…

…

“These are the tour dates, Ohno kun.  And a Drama Special.  They want to do a movie, too.  Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Satoshi looked through the film schedule and the tour dates.

“The tour goes on until January…  My contract ends in September…”

“You’ll renew, of course.”

“No.  I won’t.”

“Ohno kun…  You are at the peak of your career.  You’re doing everything all the other talents want to do…  You are the number one idol in the country, no, in Asia!  Would you throw all that away?!”

“Yes,” Satoshi answered without a single moment of hesitation.  “I don’t consider it throwing away of anything.  I consider it… my life.”

“Your tour dates are all set.  Filming is until October.”

“I’ll fulfill the contract and the tour dates, but I won’t sign another contract.”

Satoshi sighed and went back to the script in his hands.  His manager raised both hands to gesture defeat and went out to make phone calls.  It was supposed to be until September.  But…  Four more months?  He wondered if Sho and Masaki would wait for him.  He couldn’t bear to think of them together without him.  But he knew without confirming that they needed him as much as he needed them.  He was positive they would wait for him.  When the contract was over, perhaps he could move back in with them, but the risk was too big.  Without a contract, the Jimusho wouldn’t help cover up scandals…  That would hurt Sho and Masaki…  Perhaps he would get his phone back at least…

His manager returned.

“They want to extend the contract until the end of January, until the end of the tour.  If you renew, they’ll double your pay…”

“It’s not about the money.”

“Ohno kun…  Don’t you care about your fans at all?  Or are Sakurai Sho and Aiba Masaki more important to you?!”

“I care.”  Satoshi took his hand to his mouth.  “Of course I care.  I never said I’ll cancel the tour, did I?”

“Ohno kun…  Be reasonable…”

“I’ll extend my contract until the end of January.”

 

Anything…  Anything for your love…

…

「どんな言葉も要らないくらい　心に手が届いた　君には君の空があり　僕に見えたのは僕の空」

“Like I wouldn’t need any kind of word; your hand reached my heart; To you, there’s your sky; What I saw was my sky” – 声

…

Satoshi returned late to the company apartment.  The building was for various employees of the company such as full-time stylists, dancers, musicians, managers who just needed a room for the cheapest price available in the city.  No talents lived there, and the building was all male over eighteen years of age.  Unlike the dormitory style building for the juniors and teenagers (with communal showers and cafeteria) this building was an actual apartment building.

No one asked why Ohno Satoshi resided there now, on the top floor in one of the larger apartments.  They all just assumed.

The elevator’s smooth gears climbing the thick electric wires seemed too noisy for this time of the night.  Or…  It was almost morning.  He opened his door quietly and turned the lights on.

“I’m home—“ He said to the unoccupied rooms.

His phone rang.  He picked it up quickly, afraid the noises might wake anyone.

“Hello?”

[Ohno Sempai!  This is Chinen.]

“It’s a bit late to be calling, isn’t it?”

[Um…  I thought it was early?  I’m about to leave for school…]

Satoshi looked at the clock.  It was almost six.  The sky was turning bright and cool…

[I just wanted to let you know, I met Sakurai san yesterday at the TV station.  I gave him that card you asked me to…]

“Th—Thank you, Chinen kun.”

[It’s nothing, Sempai.  You must have just gotten home, huh?  I’m sorry…  Please rest.  I’ll call at another time…]

“Chinen kun…  Could you stop by my building?  After your school today?  Or work?  I have another favor to ask…”

[Anything for you, Sempai!]

…

「声を枯らして叫んでた　届かないんだこの想い　君と誓った未来は途切れた　あの日はきっと返らない」

“I shouted until my throat hurt; It doesn’t reach this feeling; The future we promised is broken; that day will never come back” – 声

…

It took a while but he remembered.  He’d played their songs and PVs enough times to recognize faces.

“You’re Chinen kun from Hey Say Jump, right?  Are you looking for something?  Someone?”

Masaki had always been good with kids, no matter the age.

“Ano… Eh—tto…  That is…  I’m supposed to find a DJ called Aiba Masaki san…”

He smiled.

“I’m Aiba Masaki.”

“Oh!  Wow!  Yay!  I found you!” Chinen brightened up immediately.  “This is for you!”

It was the same kind of envelope from the week ago.  He knew who had sent the boy here.

“It’s from…  I’m not supposed to say.  He said you would know, though.”

“Yes.  I do…”

“Oh good.”

“Do you always run tedious errands like this for everyone?”

“Never!  Only because I think Sempai is super!  He’s my reason for doing all this.  I really respect him.”

“Me, too.”

 

He sat with Sho in the subway train.  They opened the envelope together, eager to find out the content of the letter.  They read it in complete silence once, and again at home.  Satoshi explained what had happened, what he’d been doing, what his plans were for the rest of the year.  Masaki and Sho knew what they needed to do.

…

「サヨナラずっと君だけを　守りたかったいつまでも　無理に笑って忘れたふりしても　君をずっと忘れない」

“Goodbye, forever, I wanted to protect you until the end, smiling even though it’s hard while pretending I’ve forgotten you, I can’t ever forget you” — 声

…


	7. Part VII  [Take Me Far Away]

   

  

  

Part VII  [Take Me Far Away]

…

Chinen Yuri suddenly became nervous.  He was able to retrieve his baggage from the claim area with broken English.  But if he had to find his own way, he was sure he’d be lost.  But there was no need for such worrying.  He just had to smile widely as he left the exit.

Like his Sempai said he would, he was there waiting.

 

For his twentieth birthday, Chinen put in for a vacation.  Hey Say Jump was doing great, Hey Say Seven doing better, and NYC had just finished a nationwide tour with the juniors.  After the squeezed in vacation was the Hey Say Jump tour.  The producers asked each of them to choose a solo song.  The older boys, no, men, he thought awkwardly, Hey Say Best, recorded new solo songs for the album for the tour.  The younger five would choose songs from their Sempais, remix, and perform with the juniors.

There was no second thought on which song the young idol wanted to pick.

He was there at the sold out, crowded, last Live of his Sempai.  The announcement of his retirement startled not only the fans, but everyone in the entertainment business.  Ohno Satoshi was a franchise in – everyone doubted anyone else could possibly replace him.  Ohno smiled so widely, eyes sparkling, at his last press conference to officially announce his retirement.  He was too old, he had said, to go on as Idol.  He wanted to get into his art seriously—that was what he always wanted.

Chinen was awed by the size of the crowd at the Olympic Stadium.  There was no empty seat.  Even the parking lot and streets around the stadium were flooded with fans and cheers.

The song which made everyone cry—the very last song after he made his farewell, gratitude, final speech—was ‘Take Me Far Away’.  And that was it.  That was all.  There was no encore.  Chinen thought the fans knew; the end was there…  Ohno Sempai would not return to the stage ever again.  He cried without shame along with all the fans, the dance teams and juniors, and then bade his Sempai farewell.  That night was the last he’d seen him.  The next day, his Sempai was not in Japan anymore.

At least…  At the very least he had a bright smile as he walked away from it all…

‘Take Me Far Away.’  Chinen chose, to the surprise of all.  There were no other songs he wanted to sing.

‘That song is copyrighted to Ohno san, not to the Jimusho.  To perform it, you need his permission.’

‘I’m sure I could get it!  If only I can find him…’

‘Well…’ the management hesitated.  A few days later, he received the Sempai’s contact information.  Chinen put in for a vacation right away.  His Sempai had said, ‘yes, please come,’ over the phone.  His voice was still the same.

 

And he still looked the same.  He was more tanned, his hair in natural black, longer, not stylized.  He had on a logo-less plain tee shirt over plainer shorts, hands deep in his pockets while grinning at him.

“Ohno Sempai!” Chinen dragged his luggage and met him.  In his surprise, his Sempai gave him a big hug.  It should have been weird, but people were hugging all around them.  He supposed that this was normal being a different country after all.

“Welcome to Vancouver,” another voice greeted him, a familiar one he had heard over the radio during the nights.  That was until the last show on the Christmas Eve, around the time Ohno Sempai’s retirement rumors began.

“Hello, Aiba san,” the young man bowed, taking in the man standing behind his Sempai.  The possessive aura emanated from him.  And just like when he saw him for the first time at the radio station for his Sempai’s errand, he was taken aback by the raw handsomeness.  His hair was black like Ohno Sempai, and he wore an undecorated white tee under a simple leather jacket.  Chinen had suspected (even though he was much too young back then) that Ohno Sempai was in love with a man—and if he were this handsome, who wouldn’t be?  Anyone would have to be insane to not fall over for the perfect bone structures and the attractive features of Aiba san.  And Ohno Sempai had…  He looked so happy here…

“You’ve grown so tall, Chinen kun!” Ohno Sempai said, half in admiration, the other half perhaps in jealousy.

“You look happy, Sempai—“

“I am.  I really am.”

 

The drive was long and so scenic.  Trees as tall as the sky itself aligned the narrow road, the weather clear except for occasional fluffy clouds.  The air was fresh and the silence made him feel relaxed.  The stress that had built up over the past years from school, the work, tours, TV, all seemed to melt away with the breeze.

The house was set beyond a large span of grass.  The green trees lined the background farther than the eyes could reach.  The house itself was built with these trees, the natural colors preserved under matte varnish.  It was small, stood alone.  To Chinen, it looked like a postcard photo, rather than an actual livable thing.  The car went up a long driveway of gravel, parking behind a four-by-four with fishing gears and golf bags still in the truck bed.  The front door opened and a large golden retriever ran out, wagging its long tail at them.

Then another familiar face—

“Sakurai san!”

“Welcome, Chinen kun!”  The caster-like voice, the crisp annunciations hadn’t changed at all.  If Chinen had to choose who had least changed from the five years ago out of the three, it was Sakurai san.  The Newscaster he had admired so much greeted him warmly, taking him inside the house.

 

They were really like a family, the three men.  Even the dog (they said he was still a puppy, but he was as big as Ohno Sempai) looked like he was a part of this happy family, in this cozy house, full of warmth and laughter.

The dinner table was bursting with food; plates filled with assortments of Western and Japanese dishes were set in front of him.  Everything was so delicious.  He even had a glass of sweet red wine all to himself.

Chinen didn’t have to be told that they were in love.  It was love, surely, and friendship like he’d never seen, and sadly, never yet experienced in his life.  They called each other sweetly, like, ‘Sato yan~’ or ‘Masaki’ and ‘Sho chan’.  Ohno Sempai and Aiba san were still in the process of learning English, they said, but have become good enough to get by.  Sakurai san, who had mastered the language in university, had become quite fluent.

Sakurai san was teaching at a local college, Japanese language and culture, he said.  He had the easiest time finding a job.  Ohno Sempai made paintings and drawings, and showed them at the Bakery Café he and Aiba san ran together.  The Bakery was quite prosperous, Ohno Sempai said, mostly due to Aiba san’s good looks (Chinen believed him).  All the housewives and schoolgirls flocked to the small café just to see Aiba san in a white shirt and apron, Ohno Sempai boasted.  Other than that, they spent their free days taking a boat out to fish, to swim in lakes or the ocean, going out to play golf under the clear sky and mostly just spent time together, they said.

They spent the rest of the evening talking in the backyard, as large as the front expanse of grass.  There was a small area rounded off with rocks for campfire.  There were mugs of hot chocolate for all while Aiba san concentrated on making a fire out of dry woods and twigs.  Sakurai san had the pup (called Nino, after their actor friend) beside him as he and Ohno Sempai chatted with the young idol.

Then it was quiet.  The night birds and insects’ noise filled the cool Canadian air, the stars in the sky so vast.  He felt tiny in their presence, but like he belonged there as well; like with the three men, a family and he a relative visiting.

With the fire in full blaze, Aiba san walked off, Nino following him jovially, where they could still see him, and where he could see them.

Chinen felt his face flush.  He told himself it was the wine from dinner, or the hot chocolate, or the blazing fire.  But he was staring at Aiba san, the thin trails of his cigarette smoke floating up, the late night playing fetch with Nino, his gentle smile of being with the people he loved, enjoying the life he was now living.

“Uh oh—Chinen kun has fallen for Masaki—“ Sakurai san joked, poking at his blushing cheek.

“No!  No way.  I was just thinking…  He’s… handsome… but…”  Chinen shook both hands in front of him.

“He is, isn’t he?” Ohno Sempai turned back to look at Aiba san, just like Sakurai san had.

“Sempai, how… were you able to give up everything?”

“俺の暁の明星… と暁の表情…”

“That’s from your song, ‘Hung Up On’…”

“Yes.  Sho and Masaki.  I can live without being an idol.  There was never a guarantee it would last forever.  I knew Sho and Masaki would… that they would be with me forever.  That was my chance…  It wasn’t hard.  There was no weighing, no second thoughts.  Only one path.”

Nino barked happily, followed by Aiba san’s high-toned laughter.  The sounds surrounded them.  The fire was dying down.  Just then Nino came back, exhausted and happy, his head lying on Sakurai san’s lap.  Aiba san came back, the scent of tobacco and wood smoke wafting up Chinen’s nose.  He looked on as the man added more dry wood to the fire.  The night was chilly, the chocolate mugs cool now in their hands.

Aiba san took the emptied mugs back to the house, his mouth briefly pecking Ohno Sempai and Sakurai san’s hair.  Nino trailed him, perhaps to go sleep in his bed.  Chinen watched the two older men, their hands held together, after Aiba san walked off, as if that was the ‘okay sign’ for them to show their affections in front of the young idol.

“I’m happy to see… you’re in love, Sempai.”

Ohno Sempai smiled at him through the fire.  The lines of age showed on his face.  But the happy ones covered the sad, the lonely, and the painful ones.  He could believe that he was happy.

“He never tells us… ‘I love you’.  Not once.”

Sakurai san agreed with nodding.  Chinen became confused.  “But the way he acts… He must—“

“We know he does.  He just won’t tell us.  He shows us every day.  He just never will…  So for a long time, we thought he was regretting the life he had to leave behind.  But he didn’t say anything when we asked.  He smiled at us.  That was all.  We knew even without a single word.”

It became quiet after.  Chinen sat there trying to understand if he could ever feel the way Ohno Sempai and Sakurai san felt.

Just then Aiba san walked back, bundle of woolen wraps in his arms.  He gave one to Chinen, and personally wrapped Sakurai san and Ohno Sempai’s shoulders.

He saw it then.  A glimpse.  A face he only showed his beloved…  What Ohno Sempai called his暁の表情…  The expression only his beloved were privileged to…  screaming, illuminating the phrase, I love you…

…

The house only had one bedroom.  The master bedroom was easily bigger than Chinen’s apartment in Tokyo, even though the house looked small from the outside.  There were two smaller bedrooms, but one had been turned into an office for Sakurai san, the other a studio for Ohno Sempai.  So he had to sleep in the den on the pullout sofa bed.  The den was cozy with a real working fireplace.  There were photos in small frames all along the walls.  Chinen took time to study all of them (the jet lag had him awake).  Each photo was loving, small four-by-six glossy images of Sakurai san and Ohno Sempai, some beautiful landscapes, a small flower, tiny pup Nino (and one with the actor Ninomiya himself!); all portraitures of family, what Chinen could only describe as family.  There were drawings in the midst of the photos by Ohno Sempai, he supposed, in his signature style, of various things.  To Chinen’s disappointment, there were only a couple of Aiba san, one with Sakurai san, one with Ohno Sempai, one with the three of them and Nino, and a single handsome portrait in a white shirt and apron, at the café.  He stared at the picture for a few minutes, unable to move away.

After, he browsed through the CD and DVD collection.  There were shelves full of them.  There were Ohno Sempai’s singles and albums, tour DVDs, CDs belonging to other artists, Ohno Sempai’s friends, various soundtracks, and musicians he’d never heard of before.  Chinen had to smile at the Hey Say Jump and NYC CDs, even the latest ones.

One CD case caught his eyes, because there were two copies tucked in the corner at the very top shelf.

‘Aiba Masaki.  Friendship.’

Chinen made a gasp.  He pulled out one copy studying the front cover and the back track listing.  The copyright year was 1999 – the same year Ohno Sempai debuted.

The photo in the jacket was of the younger Aiba san, schoolboy haircut, and large deep black eyes.  There were only two photos to go with the two sets of lyrics.  This copy was carefully autographed in shy, neat letters of a student; to Satoshi – all the best, Aiba Masaki.  The CD itself was so scratched up.  Chinen owned a CD as scratched up as this; Ohno Sempai’s first album, played about a thousand times.  He didn’t own a CD player anymore – but he could play it on his laptop.

Since the men were all asleep, he plugged in his headset.

‘Friendship’ was an upbeat dance song with catchy melody lines.

But he was really surprised by the second track – ‘Hello Good Bye.’  It was a sweet, boyish song; he could imagine how well it went with the teenager in the CD jacket.  There were no special features, no PV; Only the two tracks and karaoke versions.

The fact that Ohno Sempai had the single didn’t surprise him.  The other copy was autographed to Sakurai san.  So they’d known one another for over a decade…  Why had he never heard Aiba san’s songs?  True he was very young then, but the songs were great.  Certainly, he liked them immediately, but as a professional, he had to say that it wasn’t for everyone.  It was unique – an acquired taste, probably – and faces didn’t sell everything.  Ultimately, it was talent.  And there was Ohno Satoshi he’d debuted against…

“Can’t sleep?” The voice startled Chinen, shooting him up out of the bed, shaking the headphones from his head.

“Se—Sempai—“

“Oh.  You’ve discovered Masaki’s songs.”  Ohno Sempai only smiled, taking the CD jacket from Chinen’s hands, looking down at the picture.

“Sempai—“

“Yeah.  I fell in love with his single, too.  Like Sho.  We were the only ones in the world.”

“…”

“Here,” Ohno gave the CD to Chinen.  “You keep it.”

“But, Sempai—“

“I think Masaki would like it if you took it.”

Chinen smiled back at his Sempai, taking the CD in both hands.

…

“Sempai, I wanted to perform your song.  But after this week spent with you, I don’t think I am capable of doing what you’ve done.  I can’t sing it with the same feeling you’ve done with…”

“You’ll do quite well, I think.”

“Take Me Far Away will always be my favorite song.  I’ll never forget the last time you sang it.”

“But—“

“—But this tour…  I want to sing—“

“Hello Good Bye.”

“Because that’s how much I understand as of now.”

“Understand?”

“About falling in love.  That’s all.  It will take me a decade to understand all else.”

“But you know we’ll never let you have Masaki—“

Chinen laughed.  “That’s not what I meant exactly.”

“You did so much more for me than you know, Chinen kun.  Without your help, we wouldn’t be here…”

“Sempai, I haven’t done—“

“We would love it if you were the one who sang Hello Good Bye, Chinen kun—“

…

「どこにいてもどんな時でも　同じ空見上げて　光集め届けたいからいつまでも　はかない情熱の影忘れたくはない」

“Despite where you are or whenever, we’ll look up at the same sky, I want to collect the lights to reach you forever, There was never a moment when I wanted to forget the shadows of transient passion…” – Take Me Far Away


	8. Part VIII  [Hello Goodbye]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part VIII is an Extra chapter I wrote at a much later date so the voice is a bit different. It actually ended at VII but there were requests for more so I wrote an Extra chapter. :D

  

  

  

Part VIII  [Hello Goodbye]

「回り回る時よこの世界踊れ巡り巡る星を今両手に集めて

誰のために歌うの君の声が呼んでる全てが始まるHello Good Bye」

“” – Hello Goodbye

…

I didn’t know where or how to begin.  Now, I’m just wishing it would never end.

 

Aiba Masaki gave his lovers a look that said, I don’t understand why you’re looking at me the way you are.  The truck drove slowly down the one lane freeway because he wanted to savor the wonderful weather of the late summer.  It wasn’t hot or humid, but nights did get chilly.  The trees were at their greenest before they had to turn into shades of red, orange, yellow and brown, and eventually lose their leaves for winter.  He could drive with the windows down and the breeze felt so good against his skin.

 

Their dog Nino barked next to him, his head out the half-opened window.  His lovers sat in the back seat of the truck while he drove the heavy-duty machine.  This hadn’t changed after all those years.  And Masaki liked that some things didn’t change about their relationship, such as their seating arrangements, or how they cuddled in bed.  Nino’s tail wagged happily; he, too, enjoying the last nice weather of the year.

 

They were on their way back from dropping Chinen off at the airport.  Even though he’d stayed for a week, the boy had brought another kind of glow to his lovers’ faces.  Satoshi, who was his direct Sempai, took extra care of him.  Sho, who felt obliged to make sure he had a good time had made schedules like when, and where to eat, and the places for sightseeing.  And it had to be he who had to bring up the fact that it was the young idol’s vacation, so perhaps they should all just rest instead of dragging the poor boy around.  Sho was mad at him for about two hours, until he raised both hands and said he wanted to do what Sho had spent time to prepare for them.  But Sho pouted and said that Masaki was right.  Chinen kun looked like he needed rest and a lot of homemade cooking…  So that was what they did all week.  They did go out to one of the lakes Satoshi liked to fish in, taking out the small row boat and basked under the sun.  By the end of the week, his lovers and guest looked radiant and happy, and that made Masaki’s stomach warm.

 

They’d waved to the young idol, watched until he had disappeared behind the gates.  Now they were driving back home.  Tomorrow, they had work again.  Sho’s first week of the new semester was always hectic.  The bakery café had closed for a week, and there were plenty to do there surely.  Masaki sighed, thinking about what he had to do in the morning.  He caught his lovers staring at him through the rearview mirror.  He couldn’t figure it out.  He would just wait until they spoke, or he would ask.

 

“What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”  Masaki asked, his signature sneer appearing at the end of his lips.

 

“Nothing.”  They said simultaneously.  Nino brought his head back inside the cabin at their voices, made a 360 degree turn as if to look at the three of their faces, and stuck his head out the window again.

 

“Alright.”  Masaki dismissed it, wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if Sho was still mad that they didn’t follow his schedule, or if Satoshi was sad to see his Kouhai go.

 

They reached home in silence.  By then the sun was setting.  Nino needed a bath badly, so he left it to Sho and Satoshi to heat up some leftovers for dinner.  Nino was behaving himself during shampooing and the cool water sprays that followed, probably because he had a long outing, or maybe he, too, missed Chinen kun.  Thinking about Chinen while rinsing the thick dog hair, Masaki had to smile a little.  The young man kept staring at him, his face turning crimson whenever their eyes met.  Masaki knew right away what was wrong with him, but pretended to not know.  It was the face Sho and Satoshi used to make, when they’d first met, after they first started kissing and having sex.  The difference between Chinen and his lovers was that Masaki looked at Sho and Satoshi the same way they looked at him; Chinen was seen as a young man, sort of in a way he looked at Ninomiya or any of his friends.  He knew the difference of his heart beating when his lovers met his eyes and when everyone else did.  Masaki toweled Nino’s wet fur and led him out into the kitchen.

 

Nino nosed Sho and Satoshi’s legs before noticing his dinner bowl and dove right in.  Masaki took his seat and ate in silence.  He looked up to find Sho and Satoshi look at him in that same way from the truck.

 

“What?”

 

His lovers shrugged and picked on their food, so, like always had to make them eat.  After coming to live in Canada, the food stuff wasn’t what they had been used to, so it took some time to get used to.  Even after trips to the Asian markets in Vancouver, it was more difficult to find what they had taken for granted in Tokyo.  But the relaxation and lack of stress mixed in with getting used to the quiet of their new home did them good.  Sho had gained weight, his face rounder, chubbier and cuter.  Even so, Masaki liked to make him his favorite foods.  Satoshi, even now, seldom complained about the menus, but he didn’t gain any more weight other than putting back what he’d lost when they had been separated.  Tonight, Masaki made sure they ate everything on their plates, and kissed their cheeks when they’d done.  They insisted on washing the dishes, so Masaki took Nino out for his exercise.  It was completely dark, the round moon bright and huge.  He whistled for Nino to return, and put him into his bed in the living room.

 

“Ne, what do you think they’re up to?”  He asked Nino, who only smiled and wagged his tail at him.  Masaki rubbed the pup’s head and told him good night.  He stretched his back, a little tight from the long drive to the airport and back, and entered the bedroom.  Masaki halted at the threshold, his jaw dropped stupidly.

 

On their bed, Sho was sucking Satoshi’s cock hungrily, moaning while Satoshi’s fingers stretched his ass.  They only acknowledged him with moaning, but kept their eyes on him.  Masaki instantly became hard.  He didn’t hesitate to throw off his clothes and joined them on the bed.  He stood at the side where Satoshi’s legs were bent over the mattress’ edge, where Sho’s head bobbed up and down between the open legs.  Masaki palmed his own erection, achingly hard, standing tightly straight up.  His hand moved on its own to match Sho and Satoshi’s movements and the sweet sounds they made.  It was then he realized why they looked at him the way they did.  They hadn’t had sex all week while Chinen was there.  Well, minus the blowjob he received from Sho in the truck while Satoshi had taken Chinen to the bait shop… and the one from Satoshi in the shower a few days ago when the older man snuck in after him…

 

His lovers continued but didn’t disengage for Masaki.  He knew their game, and they knew that he knew what they wanted.  So he had to be a little rough sometimes…  Anything Sho and Satoshi wanted he would do…

 

Masaki grabbed Sho’s hair, forcing his mouth from Satoshi.  A fine line of saliva stretched from the wet cock to the corner of Sho’s lips.  He wanted to bend down and finish what Sho had been doing, but he knew they wanted something else.  He lowered his body, as if to kiss him, but spoke just against the wet lips, “Get that cock up your ass.”

 

Sho’s eyes sparkled at his voice, his breathing faster, the pulse beating visibly in the vein of his neck.  Satoshi released Sho, pulling his fingers out slowly.  Masaki spoke in the same commanding tone to the oldest man, “Taste your fingers.”  Satoshi’s eyes were half closed, and he groaned full of lust, two of his fingers entering his small mouth.  Masaki told him to use his tongue, so he did, snaking out to lick between his digits, to show him how he would abide his words.  And he groaned again as Sho shifted his position, his thighs spread out on each side of Satoshi, his hands trembling against Masaki’s shoulders.  Sho lowered himself down, the slick shaft disappearing inside him, and he moaned in pleasure.  Masaki let both his lovers take some time to breathe, to calm their nerves, when Sho had taken Satoshi all the way in.  And he began to rock his hips…

 

“Stop.”  Masaki told him.  He pushed Sho down hard and held him there.  Both he and Satoshi began to whimper.  “I didn’t tell you to fuck him.  I only said get that cock up your ass.”

 

At grasping what Masaki meant, Sho nodded, his eyes closed tight.  He saw Satoshi swallow, his hands now holding Sho’s hips.

 

Masaki let go of his grip, stepping back to watch both men struggling in their positions.  It would be difficult for Satoshi to not fuck into the sweet heat of Sho’s ass, and for Sho to not hitch his hips for some kind of friction, any kind of pleasure.  Masaki stood where both could see his full-frontal nudity, his hard heavy sex in his hand, and he knew that they would give in and beg him for some kind of release.  His lips curved up at Satoshi’s fingers denting Sho’s clear porcelain skin, and at Sho’s dick standing straight up, clear liquid drop of come leaking out and eventually falling down the length.  Sho whined, his entire body trembling.

 

“Suck my cock,” Masaki spoke into the tension in the air.  It shattered immediately, both his lovers scrambling to move, to touch his sex, mouth widening to accommodate to the thickness.  Their positions changed, Satoshi spooning Sho’s body.  Masaki put his hand in Satoshi’s hair; his cock remained inside Sho, but neither of them moved their body.  They had created a perfect rhythm, one pair of lips around his balls while the other took the length in deep, tongues sliding and dancing all over his sensitive skin.  Masaki pulled away, to kiss his lovers.  Even though the sex was great, he loved to kiss those pliant lips more than anything.

 

He pushed and pulled their bodies, realigning their positions once again.  Sho now lay over Satoshi, face to face, and Sho’s hot ass at the edge to meet Masaki where he stood between Satoshi’s legs.  He urged Satoshi to push into Sho again, and didn’t stop his lovers this time from their timid movements for pleasure.  Sho’s lips covered the oldest man’s; even so, the soft sounds of passion escaped.  Masaki retrieved the lubricant from the bedside table, squeezed onto his fingers, and gently probed Sho’s ass flush against Satoshi’s hard cock.

 

“Oh gods…  Masaki!!”  Sho screamed.  Masaki only thought that they should have known it was coming, and stretched him wider.  All the teasing had made him less tense, suppler to his touch, and Sho only bent his back when he squeezed in another finger.  At the tightness, Satoshi shouted, too, his cock twitching against his digits.

 

“I’m gonna fuck you, Sho chan…  Satoshi and me, we’re going to fuck your hot tight ass…”  Masaki whispered into Sho’s ear, lightly biting down on the earlobe, licking the perfect curvature of the shell.  “I’m going to fuck you so hard…”

 

His cock drenched with lubricant, he placed himself where his fingers had been.  They’d tried once before, but Sho had been hurting so they’d stopped immediately.  Masaki had felt selfish in suggesting something that might have hurt his lovers, but Sho had told him over and over again, he wanted it too.  Satoshi remained still in anticipation or out of fright, for he was watching Sho’s face rather than Masaki.  He watched, too, preparing to stop immediately if there was anything amiss.  He would never hurt either of his lovers in any way.

 

He pushed in slowly, the flesh stretching, the muscles yielding for him.  He wondered if he should have used more lubricant, but he couldn’t pull out now that he was in.  It felt glorious to be pushing into his lover like this.  Satoshi’s hardness felt so wonderful under his cock and the vast heat of Sho surrounding him, them, was more than any existing words could ever describe.  If heavens have sent his lovers to him, then hell had created this lust for him to indulge in; but no matter where they’d come from, they’d go wherever there was after this together, forever.

 

Masaki realized when he’d pushed in as far as he could, that he was clawing his fingers into Sho’s hips.  He released Sho, and watched him intake so much air as if he’d just been resuscitated from a lifeless coma.

 

“Baby—“ Masaki started but Sho screamed before he could even ask.

 

“Ohmygods!!  Oh!!  Ahhh!!!”  He only screamed in vows.

 

Neither Masaki nor Sho could move, their minds and muscles frozen from this new act they’d discovered.  It was Satoshi who thrust his hips up shallowly, his hands pulling down Sho’s face.

 

“I love you, Sho chan…”  Satoshi said, his hips, his cock squeezing in and out of the tightness.  Satoshi had always been so honest.  He rarely spoke, voicing his mind only when it was necessary; his communication wasn’t his words.  He spoke through his heart, making others feel his thinking, his heart through anything but spoken words.

 

“I love you, Masaki…”  He felt it then, even though the words were only whispers, as if a storm had begun in this room, to pour down all over their bodies, rain down on all their senses.  Satoshi came helplessly, the natural function of his body spurting his seeds inside his lover and against.  Masaki could only lay his forehead against the middle of Sho’s shoulder blades.  Whatever he did, it wasn’t him controlling any of their actions, even though they wanted him to.  They had full holds on his heart, and made him do whatever they’d desired of him.

 

Satoshi had gone almost limp, his hands sliding down and over Sho’s arms to fall slack on the bed.  Masaki felt his lover’s cock slip out unintentionally from under him, his legs giving out.  So he pushed them to a more comfortable position towards the pillows, where Satoshi could relax and he could finish with Sho.  He didn’t have to try very hard; Sho had been almost done by Satoshi anyway.  He helped by squeezing his lover’s overexcited cock in a way he knew would finish him off, thrusting his hips almost impatiently, felt it, and promptly came inside his lover.

 

Masaki cleaned himself with some tissues, and then hurried to wipe all the come off his lovers’ skin so they could rest for the night.  He took his place beside Satoshi, who immediately snuggled into him, and Sho who hugged Satoshi from behind him looked more exhausted than any other nights.  Masaki brushed back the hair from Sho’s face, fingers trailing the traces of tears, the ones he couldn’t have seen.  Sho silently burst into sobbing, his lips against Satoshi’s neck.  Masaki pulled his lovers closer, squeezing the breaths out of their lungs.  Sho, he always wanted to be strong for all of them, to be something more than he actually was, strive to do better and even gave up his dreams.  He and Satoshi had sort of ended up with jobs, just someone telling them they should do this, dance, or sing, or be on television.  Now they had what they wanted, even if they’d never aspired to do their daily routine, neither minded.  But Sho had studied all his youth away to be on the news, and to inspire others, to give people he’d never met information about the world, and it was all gone.  Masaki had always felt sorry and angry that he couldn’t keep that for him.  He was frustrated at himself for never having the strength to have fought for his lovers…  It was always at the back of his mind.  So he would do whatever they wanted to make up for what Sho and Satoshi had lost…  Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t doing any good…

 

So…

 

“I love you…”  He said.  “Sho, Satoshi, I really do love you…”

 

…And Sho smiled.  Satoshi looked up into his face, his lips turned up into a weak grin.

 

“That’s… enough.  That’s all we need, Masaki.”  Sho spoke through his weeping.  Satoshi buried himself into his embrace again.  Masaki pulled and fixed the covers up over their bodies, and watched silently until sleep took over, but not ever as deep as their love over him.

 

 

The next morning, they woke up to the sun rising.  And that was enough.  There were no more tears.  Only this love, tripled to infinity…

 

 

…

The End.

 

 

 

  

\---[This part is the original post's Author's Endnote]---

So uh… it occurred to my while writing the last part, that I didn’t know when Chinen’s birthday was… and I looked it up and it’s in Nov.  Oops.  And I’ve written part 7 & 8 to be in the late summer… so that doesn’t quite work, huh…  So please disregard Chinen kun’s birthday or please imagine that it’s in September for the sole purpose of this fic. Haha ;;;  Not that anyone picked up on this, right?

The title “Triple” is for obviously the three-some ‘pairing’ of aiba, sakurai and ohno.  Also Triple for the three parts (separated into three posts) of their relationship.  This extra chapter could be a part of the ‘third part’ of the whole story.  I was actually going to end it right where it had ended, with Chinen kun, it seemed like a good ending.  The only reason for this extra chapter is that it started with these porny scenes then the porn faded out and it needed to end with another bang (bad pun, yes, but intended).  But it ended up kind of sad and well, at least Aiba ended up saying ‘I love you’. :D

Um…  And I’m sorry about not clarifying the titles before…  the ones in just Japanese.  They’re all Arashi song titles…  I just forgot to add the romanji…  You guys should really just shout at me about these things. ;D

Part I) Aiba Masaki – Friendship

Part II) Ohno Satoshi – Shizuka na Yoru ni

Part III) Sakurai Sho – T.A.B.O.O

Part IV) Sakurai Sho – Kono mama motto

Part V) Ohno Satoshi – Hung Up On

Part VI) Arashi – Koe

Part VII) Ohno Satoshi – Take me faraway  (but I’ve indulged in changing the ‘faraway’ to ‘far away’ for my own needs)

And Part VIII) Aiba Masaki – Hello Goodbye

 

My favorite character was puppy Nino. :D

\---[Thank you!]---


End file.
